


Where The Interstate Ends

by paperstorm



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Chris, Bottom Sebastian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Hayley Atwell and Anthony Mackie are married, Hayley Atwell and Sebastian Stan are best friends, M/M, Mentions of sexual assault on original characters, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Phone Sex, Professor AU, Rimming, Romance, Trigger Warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 152,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: "Soulmates are made up," Hayley says. "Love is a choice, not a thing the universe magically gives you but only once. You didn't get your one and only shot at happiness at 19. You get as many chances as you want."//In which Sebastian, Chris, Hayley, and Anthony are professors at Yale University, are all outsiders running from their own baggage, and find a new family in each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RighteousRiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RighteousRiot/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Where The Interstate Ends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372755) by [sashach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashach/pseuds/sashach)



> Please be aware that there will be discussions of several things in this story that could be triggering. If you're worried about it, come talk to me on tumblr before you read (link in the notes at the end).
> 
> Title is from the lyric “is this where the interstate ends, in coastal towns like these?” from the song Hello Alone by Anberlin

Mid-August is dry and sunburnt everywhere, as Chris drives in a rented U-Haul, almost literally the entire diagonal span of the continental United States. Santa Barbara to New Haven; south-west to north-east; ocean to ocean. Riding the I-80 until he runs out of road. If he drove any further, he’d drive right off the face of the country and into the sea. He passes through nine states. It takes him a full week of seven-hour days on the highway, sometimes fighting to stay awake long enough to pull into a roadside motel just to crash for the night and begin it all again the next morning. He gets really, really sick of podcasts and mini-vans that drive way too slow and McDonald’s. Dodger gets equally sick of his new home in the passenger’s seat – temporary, but there’s no way to explain that to a dog – and by the time they arrive in the college town that Chris will call home for the foreseeable future, neither can wait to climb out of the truck and hopefully never have to be in one for that long again. Chris has a feeling Dodger might run away the next time he catches glimpse of the orange and white logo.  
   
He arrives in New Haven just as the sun is setting on a Thursday. The air is thick and humid, proximity to the ocean leaving a muggy dampness hanging in the air. Santa Barbara was on the ocean as well, but Chris doesn’t ever remember it feeling like this. Even on humid days, the breeze always felt fresh and clean. Summer air that leaves you sticky after only a few minutes outside reminds him of his childhood. Everything about this town reminds him of his childhood. Streets lined with towering oak trees, people walking down sidewalks in flip-flops and cargo shorts and other unstylish apparel, dogs on leashes everywhere but dogs like Dodger; not the manicured purebreds or lapdogs with pink bows on their heads that were common where he used to live. He drives past his new school – or, at least, past some of it. The campus is absolutely enormous, Chris knows from studying a map on the website. He’s going to get lost approximately twice a day for probably the rest of the year, if not into the next as well. Massive, intimidating buildings covered in vines and austere, Gothic architecture gives the place a paranoid, judgement feeling, even though they’re only buildings. For all Chris had disliked about California, Westmont College had an open, inviting aura around it. This place feels like the very walls are turning up their noses at him, reminding him silently that he doesn’t really belong here. It’s a trade-off. A more relaxed, welcoming college atmosphere in a city that didn’t mesh with his lifestyle, for East Coast, colonial, familiar surroundings at a school he definitely isn’t really qualified to teach at, no matter what the President had said when they spoke on the phone. He’s too young, and too unaccomplished, and has no pedigree to speak of, coming from a working-class family on the poorer side of Boston. He’d been informed last week of a formal back-to-school gala for the staff he’ll have to attend; black tie not optional, and Chris doesn’t even own a tuxedo. He’s never in his life had any use for one. A regular suit and tie had been more than sufficient at both his sisters’ weddings. He’s going to stick out like a sore thumb.  
   
His house is small, only three rooms on the main floor and a second floor with slanted walls and two bedrooms, on a quiet street near the ocean. It’s on a corner so the backyard is large and sprawling. Chris had never stepped foot in the place before buying it – he’d sent his brother house-hunting for him since he was on the other side of the country, and Scott promised he’d like this place. Scott knows him better than anyone, so Chris had trusted his word and a few texted pictures. As he retrieves the keys from a lockbox fastened to the metal fence and crosses the threshold of his new home, his trust is rewarded. The wooden floors are scuffed nicely like the place was well-loved by it’s previous owners. It’s an older house so the ceilings are high and the windows are large, giving it a spacious, airy feel. The house faces East, so morning sunlight will fill the front rooms. The walls are pale yellow, and it’s a soft, neutral color that Chris can definitely work with. Just glancing at the living room, he can picture where his couch could go, and the corner by the window is perfect for the sofa chair that has become Dodger’s favorite nap spot. The kitchen is spacious as well, with an island in the middle and four stools surrounding it. Chris can see having his family here, gathered around the island while he cooks and then crowded into the dining room. He can almost hear the laughter, and the happy shrieks of his nieces and nephews. Appliances were all included, which is nice because Chris had been a renter in California and he would not have enjoyed arriving and having to immediately go shopping for a stove and refrigerator and dishwasher. The only other thing left behind is a tall glass vase in the middle of the island, filled with daisies and some purple flowers that Chris couldn’t name without Googling. The card tucked into the bouquet says, in pleasantly loopy handwriting,  _“We loved our home, and we hope you will too! Make happy memories. Love Sheila, Dan, Rachel, and Hank.”_ The name Rachel is scrawled in a child’s print, complete with a backwards R, and a small doodle of a dog is identified as Hank. Chris melts a little. He puts the card back on the counter, intending very much to keep it forever.  
   
“C’mere, bud,” he calls to Dodger, waiting while the mutt trots over. He leans down, taking Dodger’s face in his hands and rubbing it, and kissing his soft forehead. “We’re home, buddy. I think you’re gonna like it, here. Just wait until winter. You’ve never seen snow but you’ll love it.”  
   
The sun has already set, so Chris orders a pizza and then plugs his phone in to charge. If he had the energy, he’d go grocery shopping just so he could eat a vegetable instead of yet more fast food. Tomorrow. He can stomach grease and cheese for one more night, although he’ll need to live on nothing but salad and daily marathons to avoid starting his new job  _looking_  like he’s spent a week in a truck living on burgers and fries. Tomorrow, his parents and brother will be here, to help him move in all the furniture currently stacked to the roof in the truck outside. For tonight, Chris just needs the bag he’d purposely left easily accessible. A change of clothes, a toothbrush and other things he needs to shower, an air mattress, a hand-pump, a pillow, and a sleeping bag. And food for Dodger. It won’t be glamorous, but really it isn’t that much worse than some of the motels he’d stayed at on the trip here. And again, it’s just one night. He shares pepperoni pizza with his dog and watches a movie on his phone, and then the two of them crash early on the blown-up mattress in the middle of the living room floor. It reminds him of the camping trips he’d gone on as a kid. He hasn’t been camping in what feels like forever. Maybe next summer he could, now that he’s more likely to be around people who’ll want to go with him. He’s so, so happy to be back on the East Coast.   
   
The market for academic jobs in the humanities is scarce so a take-what-you-can-get mentality is really the only option, but Chris had truly hated California. He’d made the best of it; eternally an optimist and of the belief that being grateful for what he has is always a better mindset than moping about what he doesn’t. And, he’s always been too stubborn to let anything beat him. So he’d made friends, and he’d adopted Dodger from a local shelter, and he’d found a bar not too far from his apartment with a menu that reminded him of home. And he’d visited home, as much as he could. But it wasn’t very much, and he didn’t fit in with his surroundings at all. He’s East Coast through and through, it turns out. He likes football, and grabbing a beer with friends, and curling up with a blanket and a dumb comedy, and eating too much at his mother’s house. Yoga and kale and recreational drugs and desperately seeking fame and afternoons at the beach among people who all seemed to be in constant competition with each other over who could turn up with the biggest muscles or the smallest bikinis. It just wasn’t Chris’s scene. He’s humble but he isn’t stupid – he takes care of himself and he knows he isn’t bad to look at – but everyone he’d met outside of work always seemed more interested in the way he looked than anything else. He’d dated a girl in her mid-twenties for over a month before he realized she’d just been using him as Instagram ammunition to get back at an ex-boyfriend. A third date with a woman closer to his age had ended spectacularly when she’d been disgusted to find out he doesn’t shave his chest. He’d left that evening feeling worse about himself than he could ever remember feeling; at least until two years later, when a 20-month relationship with a man – his first ever with a man – had ended even more traumatically.  
   
The worst part of all of it was how far away he’d been from his family. They’d been so close when Chris was growing up, and he’d missed them so much he ached with it sometimes. When he’d been made aware of an opening at Yale, the fact that it’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world definitely came second to the fact that it’s located just over two hours by car away from his childhood home and the city where his sisters live with their own families. Chris had applied on a whim thinking there was less than an ice cube’s chance in Hell he’d even get an interview. Then, he’d published a book on the societal role of prostitutes in 15th century Venice, that had been dubbed ground-breaking by rave reviews in the American Historical Review, and three weeks later he’d been offered the position after nothing more than a brief phone conversation about when he could start. It was such a long and exhausting journey but he’s here, and he’s nervous about starting at a new school, especially one with such a reputation, but tomorrow he’ll get to hug his little brother for the first time in close to a year. At the moment he falls asleep, with Dodger cuddled close to his chest, that thought overrides everything else.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“You love it, right?” is the first thing Scott says, beaming, before Chris even fully opens the door. “Tell me you love it.”  
   
“I love it!” Chris confirms, grabbing his brother unceremoniously and dragging him into a vice-tight hug as Dodger barks and bounces excitedly at their feet. He’s personifying everything Chris is feeling inside. If he wasn’t in his thirties and also on the front step of his new home where his new neighbors might see, he’d also be jumping around and yelling.  
   
“I knew you would.” Scott laughs and hugs back. “I missed you so much, never move so far away again, asshole.”  
   
“I won’t,” Chris promises. He looks over Scott’s shoulder into the kind, creased faces of his parents, standing behind with thousand-watt smiles lighting up their own features. Words couldn’t describe how thrilled he is that they’re here. “Hi guys.”  
   
“Move, let me hug my baby!” Lisa demands.  
   
Scott obeys, and Chris wraps his Mom up and squeezes her. The smell of her perfume has always meant home, and it overwhelms him. Makes him feel like when he was small, and her arms felt like the only safe place in the whole world. She put Band-Aids on his knees and soothed his teenage heartbreaks and cheered him on in the front row at every Model U.N. competition. There were a lot of times in the last five years when he could have used her hugs and her advice. He didn’t call her as often as he’d wanted to, always worried hearing her voice in moments of vulnerability would break him down and have him unexpectedly quitting his job and moving back into his childhood bedroom.  
   
“I missed you more than everyone!” she declares.   
   
“I believe it. Hi, Mom. Missed you too.”  
   
She pulls back and holds his face in her hands. “Let me look at you! Are you going to shave before you start? You look like a mountain man!”  
   
“I’ve been on the road for a week,” Chris points out.  
   
“I think he looks handsome with a beard,” Scott chimes in, and Lisa clicks her tongue.   
   
“He always looks handsome, that isn’t what I mean.”  
   
“Maybe tame it a little,” Scott relents. “But don’t shave it off completely, it hides that baby face. Otherwise people might think you’re just a grad student.”  
   
“Thank you all so much for driving two hours down here to critique my face.”  
   
“No, your face is lovely.” Lisa squishes his cheeks between her palms. “I missed it.”  
   
Bob taps Lisa on the shoulder. “Can I get in there at some point? Also, I agree with your brother. Not about the beard, about California being much too far away.”  
   
“Hey, no arguments here.” Chris finally lets go of his mother so he can hug his father as well. “I didn’t like it, anyway.”  
   
“Too much sunshine? Gorgeous Hollywood actresses get a little tiring after a while?” Scott asks sarcastically as he pets Dodger.  
   
“Actually, yes. Although I didn’t live in Hollywood and I never dated an actress.” Chris steps back to let them into his empty house.  
   
“This place is great! Scott, you did good,” Bob says cheerfully, looking around.  
   
“He says, for some reason surprised that the gay child has the best taste,” Scott intones, sarcastic again, and Chris stifles a snicker.  
   
He’s ignored, and their parents wander off toward the kitchen, chatting excitedly about something called crown mouldings that Chris has no knowledge of.  
   
Scott waggles his eyebrows at Chris once they’re alone. “Close enough. To Hollywood and actresses, I mean. I saw the pictures of that last one. A total knock-out. She was miles out of your league.”  
   
Kat hadn’t been the actual last person Chris dated, Scott just doesn’t know about Eric. Chris never told him, or anyone in his family. It’s been nagging at him for two years, because he’s never kept secrets from them before. He could just never find the words, no matter how many times he tried. And he tried a lot. He’d phoned Scott once, late at night and drunk enough to be slurring his words, and came so close to spilling everything. Then at the last minute, he couldn’t, and he’d cried after hanging up the phone. If anyone on earth would understand exactly what Chris was going through it would be Scott, and despite that he still couldn’t find the words. He’d hated himself for it. But this isn’t the time, either.  
   
“She was gorgeous,” Chris concedes, because she was, and it costs him nothing to say it. “I mean it, though. The whole scene got old pretty quick.”  
   
“How does dating hot people get old?”  
   
“When they don’t care about anything other than their looks, and yours. Shallow and meaningless is fun when you’re twenty, I guess. In your thirties, not so much.”  
   
“Starting to look for something serious in your old age?” Scott teases. “White picket fence, two-point-five kids, all that mushy stuff?”  
   
“I mean … kinda, yeah,” Chris answers honestly. “Aren’t you?”  
   
Scott’s eyes roll. “We do not have enough time or alcohol right now to delve into the disaster that is my love life. Later, over many beers, I promise.”   
   
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”  
   
“I will regale you with all the juicy details as soon as we’re  _actually_ alone,” Scott says, dramatic and effervescent like he always is.  
   
“The backyard is huge!” Bob calls from the kitchen. “Can I let Dodger out?”  
   
“Yeah, go ahead!” Chris calls back. Then he turns back to Scott, and says seriously, “hey, for real, this place is fantastic. Thank you. I owe you, I guess … a house. Although, please don’t ask me to buy you a house.”  
   
Scott laughs, and hugs him again. “I expect a serious increase in the quality of Christmas presents, now that you’ll be rich off that fancy Ivy League salary.”  
   
“It’s not as much as you’re imagining.”  
   
“Still more than I make. But alright, fine, you can make it up to me by never ditching me again. You’re my ally in our crazy family, I need you here.”  
   
“That’s not even a problem. I’m honestly so stoked to be back.”  
   
“Are you two going to get off each other long enough to help me move in all your stuff?” Bob asks, leaning on the doorframe and watching them with his arms crossed. “Because Dodger won’t be able to carry very much.”  
   
“Probably more than me.” Scott finally lets go, and Chris wouldn’t have minded if the hug had lasted an hour. He has four years of being away from his best friend to make up for.  
   
“Baby, you know we’re so proud of you,” Lisa says to Chris, clasping her hands in front of her face and blinking back the tears that never quite went away from their arrival. “You’ve accomplished so much. And it’s so good to have you close by again.”  
   
“Thanks, Mom.” Chris feels the approval down to his toes. “I’m happy to be – well, not quite home, but pretty close.”  
   
“This place will feel like home soon enough. And we’ll visit so often you’ll be sick of us.”  
   
“Not possible.” Chris smiles. “And, good. I can’t wait.”  
   
It takes a couple of hours to unload everything Chris had brought from his apartment in Santa Barbara. He carries in the heavy stuff with his dad while Scott and Lisa unpack dishes in the kitchen, and then they put together his bed and his dining room table, that Chris had managed to disassemble so they would fit into the truck. Lisa goes to a nearby grocery store and comes back with nearly a dozen bags, filled with paper towels and spices and ketchup and flour and dish-soap; all the staples he’ll need to have a functional kitchen, as well as enough food to last him weeks. She refuses to let him pay her back for it, but does reluctantly allow him to take them all out for dinner when the work is finally done. At a seafood restaurant on the pier, Bob makes a toast about how proud they are to tell everyone they know that their son is a professor at one of the most famous universities in the world. It leaves Chris dabbing at his eyes with a cloth napkin and the rest of them teasing him over how easily he cries. He hugs them each for much longer than he should before they go, and they pile back into their car amid promises of weekly phone calls and driving up to Boston on Sundays for family dinners and maybe them coming back to Chris’s house in January for the Super Bowl.  
   
Chris wanders slowly from room to room after they’re gone, moving things around until they’re just so and taking in his new surroundings, and then unpacking his clothes in the bedroom and finding a good spot in the hall closet for his boxes of keepsakes. He finds the card that had come with the flowers from the house’s previous owners and sticks it to the fridge with a magnet. He locates a picture of his family from last Christmas in one of his boxes and puts that on the fridge too. When he’s finished tinkering, he sits in the middle of the couch, surveying his new living room. Dodger jumps up and climbs into his lap, and Chris hugs him.  
   
“Things are going to be better, here,” he tells Dodger. He’s thinking out loud more than anything, but saying it to Dodger makes him feel less like he’s talking to himself. “I’m going to make them better.”  
   
Dodger just looks at him, his eyes warm and kind and seeming to understand like he always does, even if he doesn’t know the meaning of the words. He licks Chris’s cheek.  
   
“A new start, for both of us,” Chris continues. He scratches Dodger’s ears. “You don’t need one so much, but I do.”  
   
He’d become someone he didn’t recognize, by the time he left California. Chris has always struggled with feelings of perpetual inadequacy, but it’s worsened significantly in the last few years, to the point that he walked around thinking every stranger was judging him harshly, and had caught himself acting in ways he wouldn’t have previously, to impress someone else. He didn’t like what he saw in the mirror anymore, because he didn’t see himself. He saw someone with his face and his voice who had twisted into a stranger while trying to become the person other people thought he should be. And all that twisting, all that bending over backward to try to fit someone else’s mould, hadn’t accomplished anything worthwhile anyway. He tried so hard to live up to what others expected of him and still got his heart broken and his self-esteem shattered and his life turned upside down. Chris is determined to remedy the situation, to learn how to be unapologetically himself and never again compromise in the hopes that it will make someone stick around. A new home is a good start.  
   
*           *           *


	2. Chapter 2

A late summer thunderstorm rages outside. Rain splatters on the windows, loud and violent, and lightening illuminates the dark sky. The low, persistent rumble of thunder rolls like a percussion chorus. Sebastian really hates thunderstorms. Usually, he draws the shades and puts on some loud music to drown it all out. In weaker moments, he compromises his senses with a substance or two and falls asleep with a pillow over his head. Neither are an option at the moment, so he just tries to ignore the booming and the flashing and the relentless pounding of heavy rain.   
   
Good whiskey and bad Chinese food leftovers color the scene in front of him, one swirling in the glass in his hand, a mellow burn to it as he sips, and the other discarded on the coffee table. Sebastian looks at a particularly greasy foil container with the remnants of chow mein in it and is going to be angry if all that oil leaks through and stains the table. It’s a nice table. Warm brown oak like most of his furniture, mid-century modern design, and cost more than it should have. Even still, it isn’t what Sebastian should be thinking about right now, as he’s reclined on the couch, feet wide apart on the floor to accommodate for the shoulders of his date, on his knees between Sebastian’s legs. What he’s doing down there is, unfortunately, forgettable. He’s humming and gasping like he thinks he’s auditioning for an adult film but it’s overdone and sounds fake and Sebastian can’t stand guys who put on a show.  
   
He sets his glass down on the side table and gets his fingers into Brian’s dark hair, pulling at it and pushing his hips up, trying to tip this over into something that might actually be worth telling Hayley about tomorrow when she asks – and she will ask. Brian moans louder, and the vibrations are nice, but Sebastian still can’t get into it.  
   
Pulling off his dick with a ragged gasp, Brian smirks and in a way he clearly thinks is seductive, purrs, “You wanna fuck my face, Professor?”  
   
Sebastian cringes. “God, don’t call me that.”  
   
“Why not?” Brian pouts, licking a hot stripe up the underside of Sebastian’s dick. “It’s what you are.”  
   
“Because I have to stand in front of classrooms filled with students who call me that, and they’re kids. It’s weird.”  
   
“Sweet young co-eds?” Suggestive waggling of eyebrows, innuendo clear and not particularly elegant. “I bet they’re all swooning over you instead of paying attention to the lecture. You ever …?”  
   
Sebastian stares at him. The fact that his dick is out and hard between them is awkward because now he sort of wants to punch this guy. “No, I don’t sleep with my students, you fucking creep.”  
   
“You definitely could.” He nuzzles into the top of Sebastian’s thigh. “So fucking sexy, I bet they’d be lining up.”  
   
“Alright, stop.” Sebastian nudges him off and tucks himself back into his pants.  
   
“We movin’ this to the bedroom?”  
   
“I am.” Sebastian stands up and steps over him, not caring that his leg bumps Brian’s shoulder and knocks him over a little. “You’re going home.”  
   
“What?”  
   
“Thank you for half a blow-job and suggesting I should fuck a teenager.” Sebastian turns to him and holds his hand out towards the door. “Now get the fuck out.”  
   
Brian gapes at him. “Wait, are you serious? I was joking, man, what’s wrong with you?”  
   
“Guess I have a bad sense of humor.”  
   
Brian stands up and his forehead twists in irritation. “You’re seriously kicking me out.”  
   
“I’m seriously kicking you out.”  
   
Glaring at him, Brian makes a dramatic production of gathering his things, the clothes he’d torn off as they’d tumbled into Sebastian’s apartment with their lips locked, muttering angrily as he does. Sebastian tunes him out and runs his fingers through his hair. His traitorous dick is still hard in his pants, which seriously undermines the self-righteous point he’s attempting to make.  
   
“Fuck you,  _Professor_ ,” Brian spits at him as he stomps past on his way to the door.  
   
“Lose my number, Brian,” Sebastian calls after him.  
   
He turns, another steely glare, and says, “My name is Jake.”  
   
Sebastian blinks. “What?”  
   
“Are you kidding me? Ten seconds ago I had your dick in my mouth and you don’t even know my name? And you’re throwing  _me_  out for making a bad joke. Pretty sure I’m not the asshole in this situation, so don’t go feeling too good about yourself.”  
   
“I never said I wasn’t an asshole. I said get the fuck out of my apartment.”  
   
“Oh my God.” Brian, Jake, whoever, rolls his eyes and leaves, slamming the door behind him.  
   
Sebastian blows out a breath and stares at the food containers on the table again, and then he laughs out loud. At the disaster this evening turned into, and the fact that apparently he’s a worse person than the guy who thinks power-imbalanced sexual misconduct is funny, and that now he does have a story to tell Hayley when she calls in the morning to demand details. He cleans up, stacking containers and tossing them into the trash and wiping the crumbs from the table, and then he pours himself another generous glass of Lot 40 rye and throws it back with one toss of his head. It’s barely 10pm but he throws in the towel on today and just goes to bed, thunder still rolling outside. He really, really hates thunderstorms.  
   
*           *           *  
   
The first time Sebastian sees him, it’s across the room at the banquet the university hosts every year to welcome back returning professors and welcome in the new ones. Sebastian can’t stand these types of things. He can’t stand a lot about this school. It’s stuffy and pretentious and elitist. He can be all those things too, at times, but at least he has the conscience to not wander around flaunting his privilege. He at least has the self-awareness to realize when he’s being a snob and roll his eyes at himself. Lots of the students here can be as insufferable as the school itself, especially the legacies, who walk around with such an unbearable sense of entitlement, demanding special treatment and grades they didn’t earn and spouting conservative talking points about things like affirmative action, while completely disregarding that they themselves didn’t earn their spot here on nothing but their own merit. And yet, Sebastian is the one who took a job at Yale because of the clout and the prestige, so he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on complaining about it. He still doesn’t like it.  
  
The ballroom is done up in sparkly mini-lights, even though it isn’t Christmas. It feels to Sebastian more like a cheesy high-school homecoming than a formal gala meant for some of the most accomplished academics in the country. He’s in the corner, Hayley at his side in a devastating green dress, surveying the crowd for new faces. Not that he’s planning on striking up a conversation with any of them, but it’s always good to keep inventory of the competition for funding. They’re far enough away from the live jazz band that the music provides pleasant background noise. Sebastian can hear the small-talk all around them. He can’t hear specifically what anyone is saying, but he can hear casual, disinterested tones and fake laughs. It’s all so put on. He’d rather be at home with his cat, reading or researching or even lying on the couch watching late night infomercials. Anything, really, would be better.  
  
“It’s not the Oscars, you know,” he says out of the side of his mouth.  
  
“You’re in a tux,” Hayley points out.  
  
“Yeah, because men have no choice at these things. There’s a lot of ground between black tie formal and you looking like you belong on a red carpet.”  
  
“Stop slut shaming me, I look amazing.”  
  
“God, I’m not.” He rolls his eyes, but then looks at her and lets her see his sincerity. “That’s my point. You look better than anyone here by miles and it’s unfair.”  
  
“Thanks darling.” She winks at him. “You look very handsome.”  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“How was your summer?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know, as if they didn’t speak nearly every day and spend a full two weeks on a beach together in Mexico. She agrees with him, on hating small talk. She’s mocking it. In reality, she’s much better at it than he is.  
  
“Productive.”  
  
“That’s awfully boring.”  
  
“What, did you want me to tell you about all the underground orgies I attended?”  
  
Her eyes sparkle. “Yes, please.”  
  
“Well, I can’t, because I didn’t.”  
  
“Tragic, truly.” She swirls the glass of scarlet red wine in her hand and takes a demur sip, always expertly playing the part of socialite at events like this but Sebastian knows her better than that. He’s known her since their first year together at Brown, knows she’s hysterically funny and wickedly smart, and he knows she drinks beer and swears like a sailor when they aren’t in the presence of people who would hold it against her because her gender means she’s expected to be refined.  
  
“I finished my manuscript last week, sent it off to the editor,” Sebastian points out. “I could tell you about that, or are you only concerned with whether I’ve found someone new to screw?”  
  
“I’m concerned with both, my love. You’re the one avoiding the questions.”  
  
“Fine, I went on several dates. Most of which you knew about because I already told you. Happy?”  
  
“Anyone interesting?”  
  
“That is not the word I’d use.”  
  
“Anyone particularly good in the sack?” she grins mischievously.  
  
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Sebastian sighs. “But not interesting enough out of it to merit a second date.”  
  
“That’s adorable.”  
  
“You’re telling me you only got married because he’s good with his dick?”  
  
She keeps grinning at him, but then she relents. “Alright, fine. You’re right, you have to actually like them as a person. You had one the other night, how was that?”  
   
“Finally. I thought you’d forgotten.” Sebastian sips at the vodka and soda in his own glass. “I was expecting a call the next morning that never came.”  
   
Hayley gestures at her dress. “I was at a fitting. Do you think looking this spectacular happens without days of preparation? There are going to be times when you can’t be my top priority, I’m sorry to disappoint.”  
   
“It was a calamity, thanks for asking.”  
   
“In what way?”  
   
Sebastian rolls his eyes again, and decides he’d rather not get into it right now. “Where is your husband, anyway?”  
  
Her turn to roll her eyes. “Being paraded around like he always is at these things. You know they only hired him so they could brag about not being a deeply racist institution anymore, as if that’s anything to brag about.”  
  
Sebastian follows her gaze to Anthony, Yale’s first head coach of the football team who is anything other than white and extraordinarily privileged, being all but dragged around the party by the president of the university.  
  
“Not that he didn’t deserve the job. But that’s not why he got it,” she continues bitterly. “It’s the third season already and they’re still toting him around like he’s a new invention.”  
  
“We could go rescue him.” Just as Sebastian says it, Anthony appears to be managing to excuse himself from arm-candy duties, and he grabs two glasses of champagne off a waiter’s tray and chugs them both on his way over. He deposits the empty glasses on another tray, but looks like he’d rather toss them dramatically over his shoulders and let them smash on the marble floor.  
  
“I’m gonna sue for emotional damages,” he jokes as he gets close enough to them to shake Sebastian’s hand and kiss Hayley on the cheek.  
  
“I know you’re kidding but you should,” Sebastian says. “It’s gross, the way they treat you.”  
  
“Seb was just telling me all about his next book and his disappointing love life,” Hayley fills Anthony in.  
  
“I never said disappointing.”  
  
“Knowing the two of you I bet what was actually happening was Sebastian  _trying_  to tell you about his next book and you harassing him about his love life.” He slips his arm around Hayley’s waist while she squawks indignantly, and Sebastian is smug in his vindication.  
  
Their resulting bickering is easy enough to tune out. It fades entirely into the background when Sebastian happens to glance up while sipping his drink and notices tall, and broad shoulders, and dark blond hair slicked back, and a tidy beard cropped close to a strong jaw. For just a moment, everything else he can see fades to blurry shadows. Time seems to slow like in a movie. He stares, unable to tear his gaze away, watching the man shaking hands and smiling, being introduced around by an older woman whose name Sebastian should definitely know but can’t think of in the moment. Narrow hips and long legs and such a wide, expansive chest, Sebastian wants to nap on it. The impeccably tailored tuxedo looks distressingly good on him, and does very little to hide the impressive build that’s obviously underneath it. Sebastian’s hands itch to touch, to strip him out of that suit, slowly revealing what he just knows would be smooth, pale skin stretched over the gorgeous cut of muscle. His mouth waters just thinking about it.  
  
“You don’t mind, do you, Seb?” Hayley is asking, and Sebastian only half hears her because even though they’re across the room, they’re still close enough for Sebastian to notice large hands and long fingers and a bright, boyish smile. The smile is really what does him in. Expertly sculpted bodies are a dime a dozen at the clubs Sebastian goes to from time to time when he gets lonely and hates himself enough to risk destroying his reputation. Running his hands over rippling abs and bulging shoulders is nice, he’d never turn it down, but it’s that smile. It’s blinding, endearing, sparkling with sincerity. It makes him look like an excited groom on his wedding day, or a teenager who just earned his driver’s licence, or a kid on Christmas morning. Young and soft and sweet. It’s possible he’s never seen a more beautiful man in his life. It’s also possible he’s having a stroke.  
  
“Earth to Seabass.” Anthony pokes him. When Sebastian doesn’t react, he follows Sebastian’s gaze to discern what he’s looking at, and then he cracks up loudly. “Uh oh. Target acquired.”  
  
“Hey, don’t put it like that,” Sebastian complains, still not looking back at his friends. “Makes it sound like I’m hunting people.”  
  
“Oh, that’s ... something ... Evans,” Hayley says. “Can’t remember the first name. New this year.”  
  
“How do you know that and I don’t?”  
  
“Because I pay attention to departmental memos.”  
  
“Wait, he’s in our department?” Sebastian’s heart-rate speeds up, and he finally manages to tear his gaze away to look back at Hayley.  
  
“He’s a medievalist,” she grins. “Shall we go introduce ourselves?”  
  
“Absolutely not.”  
  
“Aww, he’s blushing,” Anthony teases, hugging his arms around Hayley as they smile at him stupidly, and Sebastian definitely needs new friends.  
  
“I know that look in your eyes,” he threatens, meaning both of them but more so Hayley. “I swear, if you try to set me up with him …”  
  
“Go talk to him yourself, then!”  
  
“And say what, exactly? I’m horny and you’re handsome?”  
  
Hayley giggles. “You’re a New York Times best seller, I’m sure you can come up with something more eloquent than that. Besides, perhaps he’s also gay and horny.”  
  
“He isn’t.”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“Because I could never be that lucky. Drop it, Hales, I’m serious.”  
  
“And what if I don’t?”  
  
“I’ll tell your husband about the time we hooked up during our undergrad.”  
  
“Uh, what?” Anthony demands.  
  
Hayley’s eyebrows shoot up into her hair. “What the shit, no we didn’t!”  
  
“Yes, but the subject’s changed now.” Sebastian smirks to himself at the looks on their faces.  
  
“Hilarious. But point taken.” Anthony kisses Hayley’s cheek again and then speaks into her skin. “We will leave him alone, right babe?”  
  
Hayley grumbles about it but agrees. Sebastian can tell she has absolutely no intention of leaving him alone. She’ll let it go for the evening but he hasn’t heard anywhere close to the last of this.  
  
Sebastian makes idle conversation with his other colleagues for another hour, trying to avoid watching Something Evans out of the corner of his eye and failing spectacularly. At one point he happens to be close enough to get a better view of his face. His eyes are so blue, and his nose has a bump in it, and that smile lights up his entire face. It’s a complete nightmare. It’s the worst idea in the world to have a crush on a co-worker, especially before he even knows the guy’s name, but it’s too late. He’s already gone. He’s already imagining strong hands on his hips and soft, full lips on all sorts of other places and by the time Hayley allows him to leave the party, he’s half considering applying for jobs at other colleges just to avoid the entire thing before it even fully begins.  
  
  
*           *           *  
   
The second time Sebastian sees him is over two weeks later. He’s in the Humanities teachers’ lounge with Hayley. He had been relatively successful in not spiraling into a full obsession after the banquet. He did check the website because he needed a first name –  _Chris –_ and he had spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at the accompanying photo, even though a still image hadn’t managed at all to capture the sparkle in those blue eyes or the magic of his smile. But then classes had begun, and Sebastian had necessarily busied himself with lesson plans and trying to learn students’ names and lectures on the complex economic systems in trans-Atlantic trade empires, and he hadn’t  _forgotten_ about the man with the broad shoulders and the nice smile, but he’d been blissfully preoccupied by other things. Hayley, true to her word but entirely contrary to her nature, had actually let the subject drop. Sebastian can’t remember the last time that happened.  
   
On a sunny Thursday morning, he’s drinking crappy workplace coffee while Hayley tells him excitedly about a conference in London she’s been asked to speak at, when Evans enters the room and Sebastian nearly swallows his own tongue. He turns away so the guy won’t see him choking on the sip he’d been taking, and Hayley jumps at the opportunity to completely ruin how cool she’d been about it so far and waves exaggeratedly, inviting him over.  
   
“You’re new!” she says brightly, as if he doesn’t know that. She holds out her hand and shakes his enthusiastically. “Hayley Atwell, Cultural Anthropology.”  
   
“Hi,” he says, a shy smile taking over his pretty face. “Chris Evans. Uh, pre-modern European History, mostly.”  
   
“The imbecile struggling to breathe next to me is Sebastian Stan. Atlantic History.”  
   
“Hi,” Sebastian rasps, aware of how ridiculous he must look with watery eyes and red cheeks. He’s going to strangle Hayley.  
   
“Are you alright?” Evans asks, sounding genuinely concerned, and of course he is. His voice is just like Sebastian thought it would be – low and gravelly and gentle, like soft waves after sunset, like something else out of a dramatic Harlequin novel, and he is in so much trouble.  
   
“Yeah, wrong pipe.” Sebastian coughs again, and Evans extends his hand, and Sebastian very much does not want to touch him and find out his skin is soft but he does because it would be weird not to.  
   
“I hate when that happens.” Evans smiles. “Nice to meet you.”  
   
“Sit with us,” Hayley suggests. “Unless you’re late for something?”  
   
Evans shakes his head and takes a seat. Sebastian can smell him from several feet away. Woodsy, manly aftershave and a soapy smell that’s probably coming off his sweater. It’s green, and it’s tight, the sleeves rolled up over muscled forearms and there is a checkered shirt sticking up over the V-neck, the top two buttons undone casually. His hair is still pushed back but not as styled as it had been at the banquet. It’s softer, a bit messy, like someone had been running their fingers through it. He’s wearing glasses today, black-rimmed and stylish and large enough frames so they don’t hide those dazzling turquoise eyes that Sebastian could just drown in. Bad, it’s all very, very bad. Catastrophic. Sebastian definitely needs to quit immediately and transfer to another school. Or maybe leave the country.  
   
Hayley chats with him convivially, charming him with her wit and her accent and her own smile that could break hearts. Sebastian focuses all his energy on trying not to stare with drool dripping down his chin like he’s an escaped inmate from a nearby asylum. He’s not entirely sure he manages it. He only hears half the conversation with blood rushing in his head. Evans just moved here from California. His dissertation was on the Bayeux Tapestry, but Sebastian misses the finer details on that. Something about family nearby. He attempts to chime in. He hears his own voice answering questions, but he’s panicking too much to be fully aware of what he’s saying. It evidently isn’t anything too embarrassing, because Evans just keeps smiling at him, and if he keeps that up much longer Sebastian is going to need an ambulance.   
   
His consciousness does kick back in at the moment Hayley suggests Sebastian could show Evans around campus. “Since you’re new, and it can be confusing,” she reasons, sugary sweet to cover her wicked intentions, but of the two men she’s currently attempting to manipulate, only Sebastian knows her well enough to see through it.  
   
“I’m sure he doesn’t need me to do that,” Sebastian says.  
   
At the same time, Evans says, “Oh, that’d be great actually.”  
   
Their eyes meet, as they each hear what the other said over their own words.  
   
“Oh,” Evans shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, I mean I’m sure you’re busy. I mean – I am too.”  
   
Sebastian swallows, and it goes down thick and rough like he’s suffering from the world’s first case of instant onslaught laryngitis. “If … no, I – I could do that. If you want.”  
   
“You don’t mind? I could always just get a map, if it’s too much trouble.” Another bashful smile, pink-tinged cheeks. Disaster isn’t a strong enough word.  
   
Forcing a smile onto his own face that he’s sure ends up looking pained and constipated, Sebastian hears himself say, “I don’t mind.”  
   
“I’ve got a full day tomorrow, how about Monday? I don’t teach in the afternoon.”  
   
“It’s a date,” Sebastian says, and then realizes what he’d said and is struck with the sudden desire to toss himself off a cliff.  
   
Evans doesn’t seem to notice. He nods and looks at his watch. “I’ll email you. I’ve got a class, it was really great to meet you guys.”  
   
“Until we meet again, Professor Evans,” Hayley bids him a formal, exaggerated farewell, and Evans laughs softly.  
   
“Chris,” he corrects. “See you around.”  
   
Sebastian groans and drops his head down onto the table the second Chris is gone. Hayley is cackling in her seat beside him and he kind of wants to push her out of the chair. “Did you really have to do that? Call him over when I was fucking choking to death?”  
   
“I beg your pardon, you should be thanking me. You were never going to find the stones to make the first move, and you know it. And one day when you’re married you can tell him you were choking because you wanted to lick every inch of his voluptuous body, and then it will become a cute story you tell at parties.”  
   
“I’m putting an ad in the newspaper for a new best friend.”  
   
“You like him,” she goads, as if it’s meant to be new information.  
   
“Of course I fucking like him,” Sebastian complains, admitting it out loud for the first time. “He’s so hot I wanna die. I don’t even know anything about him and I want to ask him to spend a week with me in Paris.”  
   
“Young love,” she sighs. “I miss that rush.”  
   
“You can have it! I’m not enjoying this, in case you hadn’t noticed. He’s probably straight, you’re aware of that, right? You just set me up on a sort-of date with a guy who’s probably straight, and is a colleague. This is a mess.”  
   
“If he turns out to be straight you’re no worse off than you are right now.”  
   
“Not true. I can’t go back in time and un-see him.”  
   
Hayley’s jaw drops and her lips curve into an open-mouthed smile. “Who are you right now? I’ve seen you flirt, you’re always all smooth and confident and  _not_ like this. Seb, one time I saw you seduce a man from across a bar with just a  _look_. You hadn’t said two words to him and you had him following you home.”  
   
“Thank you for pointing out how far I’ve fallen.”  
   
“No, darling, I’m not saying it’s a problem. You’re so smitten for this man and you barely know him. It’s … quite sweet, actually.”  
   
“It is not sweet, it’s horrible, and it’s going to end very badly, and it’s all your fault.” Sebastian stands up. “And I love you, but I’m storming off right now.”  
   
He leaves the lounge to the sound of her yelling something after him about not hiding from the truth.  
   
*           *           *


	3. Chapter 3

“Did they really believe all that?” a student in the third row asks.  
   
Chris looks at her and thinks for a second – there are almost 40 students in this class, but he’s been trying to learn all their names. It’s a third-year course on religion in the pre-modern world, and it’s still the beginning of the semester but so far he’s enjoying this group immensely. They seem interested and engaged in the material, in a way that gives Chris a lot of hope for the rest of the term. He can’t wait to get to the unit on clerical concubines. He knows a few of the female students, especially, will have some strong opinions.  
   
“Kayla?” he tries, only half-sure he’s got it right, but she nods. He pumps his fist exaggeratedly, in victory, and the class laughs. “All the Biblical stuff, you mean?”  
   
“The Church was just such a big part of their lives,” she elaborates. “I’m wondering if people actually believed the stuff in the Bible or if they just had to go along with it because they didn’t have a choice.”  
   
“The short answer is, we have to assume they did believe it because we don’t have much to suggest otherwise. But you’re right, it was an expected part of their daily lives in a way religion isn’t anymore for most people. We can speculate on what they really thought, but without evidence it’s all just guesswork.”  
   
“But they believed in all kinds of crazy stuff, didn’t they?” a boy named Caleb interjects. “Ghosts and magic and summoning demons and fucking …” he trails off, catching himself one second too late and then embarrassed that he swore in class.  
   
“Yes, they believed in all kinds of things that most people today would call fucking bullshit,” Chris confirms, grinning when the room rumbles with laughter again.  
   
“So, if you’re gonna believe in demons, a virgin birth isn’t that much of a stretch,” Caleb continues. His cheeks are still pink.  
   
“Very true.” Chris nods thoughtfully. He pushes himself up onto the desk and takes his glasses off, setting them down beside him. “Here’s the thing about the medieval mind, that is difficult for us to wrap our heads around. The concept of a fact, as we understand it today, wasn’t something that existed back then. They didn’t have a word for it. We are products of the Scientific Revolution, we are products of a movement of people that sought to reorganize their understanding of the world around things like facts, and the importance of proof.”  
   
“The scientific method,” Kayla says.   
   
Chris points at her emphatically. “Exactly. If I walked in here tomorrow and told you I saw a flying giraffe, if I couldn’t prove it, you wouldn’t believe me, because that’s how the modern mind works. We have all been conditioned to be distrustful of things we haven’t seen with our own eyes. The medieval mind didn’t work that way. Biblical stories didn’t necessarily need to have actually happened, word for word as they appear in the Bible, in order for them to represent a larger truth. Take the story of Noah’s Ark. There are several different cultures whose ancient texts do mention a large-scale flood, but was there a global flood that engulfed all of the earth’s land-masses, and an ark with two of each animal? Of course not, that’s ridiculous. But that isn’t the point. A person in the twelfth century wouldn’t have been concerned with whether that story was factual or provable. They didn’t care about facts, they cared about whether something was  _true_. Truth didn’t need to be proved, because that wasn’t the purpose of it. And I know those things sound the same to our ears, but in the middle ages they weren’t.”  
   
“That’s confusing.”  
   
Chris stares at the girl who speaks for a moment and then curses himself. “Sorry, I can’t remember.”  
   
“Lily.”  
   
“Lily! I’ll get it soon enough. And you’re right, it’s extremely confusing. I’ve spent my whole academic career trying to understand it, and I probably never will. Here’s the thing about History. We all come to it with internal biases. Even if we try not to. True objectivity isn’t something that exists in the human mind. We all have a worldview, that we’ve developed based on our surroundings. Our parents, our teachers, our society, the things we’ve seen in the media, in the news. It all mixes up together and wraps around us like a bubble, and every time we look at something else, we look at that thing  _through_  the bubble, and it distorts whatever we’re trying to understand. The goal of a historian is to make that bubble as thin as possible, to try as hard as you can to not let your own worldview color what you’re studying, but also to understand that the bubble never goes away. To be aware of that. It will always be there, no matter what. There are so many things from the past that we as humans in 2018 can never truly understand, because it isn’t possible to step outside of ourselves and view ancient people in their own context.”  
   
“But we also can’t assume something didn’t exist just because it wasn’t written down, right?” Lily asks, wincing a little like she’s hoping what she’s about to say isn’t stupid. “I mean, putting too much stock in written sources and official documents erases women from history, doesn’t it?”  
   
“Yes!” Chris cries, aware he’s grinning from ear to ear. “That is an excellent point, completely right. If you only look at the surface, you’d think women barely existed until the 20th century. Which is of course not true at all. Women were vital in all aspects of society in the middle ages, they were involved in the public sphere, in feudal economies, in the monarch’s court. They played all kinds of fascinating roles in ancient societies that can be overlooked if you only look at the official records.”  
   
Lily looks down at her desk but Chris sees the smile on her face. She’s proud of herself, and it lights him up inside to have made her feel that way.  
   
He glances at his watch, and reluctantly notices they only have a few minutes left. “Okay, we’re almost out of time, guys. Great work today. Essays due next Friday, remember, we’re looking for structure, and for a strong, overarching argument. It isn’t enough to just regurgitate what the sources say, I want you to think about what you’re reading, to question it. To give me your own analysis. Come see me if you have questions.”  
   
His students gather their belongings, a din rising in the room as they chat with each other and slowly make their way out of the lecture theatre. Chris erases what he’d written on the blackboard, and shuts the projector off, unhooking his laptop and packing it up in his bag. Two girls send him unmistakably flirty smiles as they leave, and Chris tries to return it as professionally and platonically as possible. He isn’t foreign to the idea of students with crushes on him, but it’s always uncomfortable. He would never in a million years want to go there, but they’re young and powerless and it puts him in a tough spot. Turning them down firmly but kindly isn’t the easiest thing to navigate, as he’d come to find out first-hand a few years ago at his last school. It’s a delicate business. As the last of the kids filter out, he shuts the lights off and closes the door behind him, still smiling and distracted. He turns to take a left down the hallway, and crashes into something solid. He nearly drops his bag but manages to catch it, and then looks up into the face of the man he’d met only yesterday in the teacher’s lounge.  
   
“Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Chris groans.  
   
“Ow,” Sebastian comments, rubbing just underneath the middle of his chest where Chris had accidentally elbowed him, but he looks amused. “Look both ways before you cross the street.”  
   
“Sorry,” Chris says again, sheepishly.  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “I’ll live.”  
   
Chris loses his nerve to say anything else for a moment. He’d been a little bit blown away by this man yesterday morning. He’d expected to find bad coffee in the teachers’ lounge, not a fellow History professor who looks around his age and is, annoyingly, extremely handsome. Soft looking, tousled brown hair; intense, steely blue eyes, high cheekbones, tanned skin, full lips. The woman he’d been sitting with – Hayley – was stunning as well. She reminded him of Audrey Hepburn in old movies; impeccably dressed, chestnut hair perfectly styled, crimson lips, a captivating smile. Walking over after she’d called for him felt a bit like walking onto the set of a movie. Chris had sat at the table attempting to make conversation and trying not to choke on his own tongue. He still isn’t sure he hadn’t said something embarrassing, because the whole encounter was a bit of a blur and he really only remembers the ending.  
   
“Good class?” Sebastian asks, nodding toward the room Chris had just exited.  
   
“Fantastic, actually.” Chris feels his face break back into a smile. “These kids are smart. We had such a good conversation.”  
   
Sebastian nods. There is an unreadable expression on his face. He’s eyeing Chris like those bright, piercing eyes can see right through him.  
   
“Hey, um.” Chris cringes. “So, you were kinda shoehorned into giving me a campus tour on Monday. I realized that after I left. If you don’t want to, you really don’t have to.”  
   
Sebastian frowns. “No, I … I want to. I mean, it’s … I was new here just a few years ago, and it’s such a big campus, so. It’s easy to get lost. I honestly don’t mind.”  
   
“I did get lost, the other day,” Chris admits. “I was looking for the Architecture library. Ended up in some kind of science lab. A bunch of people in lab coats looked at me like I had three heads.”  
   
A smile takes over Sebastian’s face. His eyes crinkle so nicely at the edges, and Chris’s heart skips a beat.  
   
“I read your book on the Haitian Revolution, by the way,” he says, holding back his desire to gush about how remarkable it was. He’d read the reviews, as well, and knew how well it had been received. Almost universally positive and quickly declared formative in the field. Chris was enthralled at the time as he read it, and is now gobsmacked at meeting the man behind the impressive work.  
   
Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Since yesterday?”  
   
Chris chuckles. “No. Last winter, when it came out. It isn’t my area so I don’t know that much about it, but it was fascinating. I couldn’t put it down.”  
   
That funny expression takes over Sebastian’s face again. He looks somewhere caught between pleased, surprised, and something else that Chris can’t decipher. “Thanks. Really, that’s … nice of you to say.”  
   
“I didn’t figure out who you were until I got home last night. I thought your name sounded familiar but I didn’t put the pieces together until I walked past my bookshelf and saw it.”  
   
“Were you star-struck?” Sebastian jokes, sarcastic and endearingly self-deprecating. He obviously thinks he deserves the exact opposite of his words, but he’s wrong about that.  
   
Refuting his implication that he’s nothing to be fanned over, Chris replies, “Kinda, yeah. It was really good.”  
   
Pressing his lips together, Sebastian looks down toward his shoes for a second and then looks back up at Chris through his eyelashes. “I gotta go,” he says, sounding regretful about it. Or maybe Chris is just engaging in wishful thinking. “Got a lecture in five minutes.”  
   
Chris nods. “Yeah, of course.”  
   
“I’ll email you tonight. Tell you where to meet me on Monday.”  
   
“Sounds good.”  
   
He’s walking away down the hall for at least twenty seconds before Chris realizes he’s watching him leave like the romantic lead in a sappy movie.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris dials his brother’s number after he finishes loading the dishwasher and turning it on. It hums while the phone rings in his ear, and Dodger asks to be let out by pawing at the sliding doors. Chris tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder and slides the glass door open. Scott answers as he’s pushing the door closed again, against the chilly September wind.  
   
“Are you really sitting at home on a Friday night calling your family?”  
   
“So are you, apparently.”  
   
“Joke’s on you, I have a date later,” Scott says smugly.  
   
“Later? It’s almost 9.”  
   
“Gay dates don’t start until well after the sun goes down. We’re like vampires.”  
   
Chris snickers, but isn’t sure how to respond.  
   
“So? How have the first few weeks been?”  
   
“Really good,” Chris says honestly. “My higher-level classes especially are great, I was sort of expecting a lot of bored rich kids, but I shouldn’t have been. Those kids exist in the first-year courses but the ones in my seminars are mostly awesome.”  
   
“Maybe you’re just a good teacher.”  
   
“I hope it’s both.”  
   
“Any sexy lady profs?”  
   
Chris can hear, rather than see, Scott’s suggestive expression. It’s still unmistakable, miles apart and over the phone. He bites the inside of his cheek and a flutter moves through his gut. His answer isn’t a lie, but it isn’t the entire truth either, so it still makes him feel lower than dirt. He hates keeping secrets from his family; especially Scott. “I met an Anthropology prof the other day, movie-star gorgeous. Her name is Hayley. But she had a ring on.”  
   
Scott hums sympathetically. “Too bad. Keep looking. You’re a catch, there’s gotta be someone at that school who’ll want a taste.”  
   
“Thanks, I think. I’ll take the compliment, even if it’s weird coming from you.”  
   
“I have to leave you hanging, tragically.  _Kevin_  is picking me up in a few minutes.” Scott drags out the name theatrically.  
   
“You’re letting him pick you up? What if he’s a psycho, don’t you wanna take your own car?”  
   
“Do you think I meet these guys under a bridge or something? He isn’t a mass murderer, he’s a tax lawyer with two cats. I think I’ll be safe.”  
   
“Seriously? That sounds kinda boring.”  
   
“You didn’t see his abs.”  
   
Chris snorts. “You picked him up in the locker room at the gym, huh?”  
   
“I will not dignify that with a response,” Scott declares, which means Chris is right. “Call me tomorrow and I’ll give you all the juicy details. Goodnight, and please get yourself laid soon so I can stop feeling sorry for you. It’s been like two years, man, I don’t know how you’re still alive.”  
   
“Yeah. I’ll try.” The familiar pang of guilt burns sour in his chest. He hangs up, and calls Dodger back inside, and curls up with him on the couch. He watches a documentary about a Japanese death cult from the 1990s, and very resolutely does not think about blue eyes and soft brown hair and sardonic smiles. If anyone were to ask, he accomplishes it without the slightest of effort.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Distressingly, Chris sweats through his grey dress shirt during his lecture on Monday morning. It’s a first-year course on the Industrial Revolution, so it’s generally an easy class. The students seldom even have questions. He mostly stands at the podium and talks; drones on about Taylorism and the rise of global Capitalism in prepared sermons that he rarely needs to deviate from. He clicks the remote on cue to change the slide projected on the screen behind him. If he lets his eyes slip out of focus, he can easily pretend he’s practicing lecturing in front of the mirror and ignore the fact that there are nearly two hundred pairs of eyes on him. In actuality, there aren’t that many eyes, because a good portion of them are focused down at their MacBooks. Some are taking notes. Likely, others are on Twitter or iMessage or whatever other app, ignoring his address entirely. Usually, that would annoy him, because most of these kids’ parents are paying ungodly sums for them to be here. His own working-class upbringing would never have allowed him the privilege of attending a university with tuition as astronomical as it is here, so he feels they should at least be grateful enough to obtain the education they’ve been sent here to receive. Today, uncharacteristically, he doesn’t care. His mind is elsewhere.  
   
He thankfully has a spare sweater in his car. It’s crumpled up in his gym bag, but when he insistently shakes it, the wrinkles mostly disappear. He puts it on over the shirt he’s been wearing and spends a few vain minutes staring at himself in the reflection of his car’s rear left window; tugging the collar of the shirt out from beneath the sweater and smoothing it down. He rolls the sleeves of both up, tucking the cuffs of the shirt up over the sweater in a way he hopes looks intentional; like this is the outfit he’d planned all along, instead of one he’d thrown together on the fly to cover embarrassing sweat-stains.  
   
He meets Sebastian at the doors of the main library, because it’s one on a very small list of places Chris actually knows the location of besides his office and the classrooms he’s teaching in this semester. He looks incredible, which of course Chris should have predicted, but because his brain is attempting to protect him from certain destruction, he hadn’t. In fitted black jeans and a burgundy turtleneck, with shiny leather shoes, Sebastian looks like he belongs on the pages of a magazine, and Chris feels disheveled by comparison. It’s another thing he wasn’t expecting when he moved here. He’d assumed most of his colleagues would be older, accomplished academics, in frumpy, ill-fitting suits and horn-rimmed glasses and frizzy grey hair. He hadn’t anticipated co-workers like Sebastian and Hayley, who could model for Gucci or Hugo Boss in their spare time. He very likely isn’t the only one with students who conjure up inappropriate ideas in their heads.  
   
The smile Sebastian sends is way his wide and makes his eyes sparkle. “Ready?”  
   
“This is really nice of you,” Chris says, adding, for what feels like at least the fifth time, “you totally don’t have to do this.”  
   
“Do you not wanna hang out with me?” Sebastian asks, half like he’s joking, half like he’s really asking. “‘Cause I can find something else to do …”  
   
“No, that’s not …” Chris sighs and then laughs. “No, I do. I’m not exactly in the position to turn down friends, considering I don’t have any.”  
   
“Let’s get one of those broken heart best friends forever necklaces, make it official.” There’s something self-effacing about Sebastian’s quick wit – like he’s the butt of every one of his own jokes. It isn’t a quality Chris would have ever said he’d find attractive, but he would have been wrong.   
   
Sebastian walks him around the large expanse of the Yale campus, pointing out buildings Chris might need to take notice of, but Chris has a hard time paying attention, and an even harder time remembering. He does manage to catalogue in his brain the oral history center, and the faculty gym, and the wing of administrative offices in a central building. He tries to keep track of everything else, but he probably fails relatively spectacularly. He’s going to require a map anyway, regardless of the fact that this was supposed to negate his need for one. It’s only partly a failure on his part; mostly it’s because the campus is several times bigger than what he’s used to, and likely no one can find their way around at first. Luckily, as Sebastian does point out, Chris won’t need to be familiar with much beyond the Arts buildings and classrooms. The buildings meant for the science or law students are nice to look at, but it’s unlikely Chris will find a reason to visit them.  
   
“Unless you start dating a Chemistry professor,” Sebastian allows as a caveat. “Actually there is a good looking one, I think her name’s Miranda. I’ll ask Hayley if she’s single, if you want. She knows everyone’s business.”  
   
Chris doesn’t respond because he doesn’t know how to, and after looking at him sideways for a moment as if he’s searching for something important in his face, Sebastian lets the subject drop. They end up in a courtyard, on a bench with take-out coffee from a Starbucks kiosk near the bookstore. Chris doesn’t say it out loud for fear it will sound condescending, but everything he’s seen so far is nearly exactly what he’d expected before moving to New Haven. Immense, antique buildings; clock towers; aesthetically crumbling brick and creeping vines; expansive gardens. It’s all a lot more imposing than anything he’s used to, even when he was a student. What he wasn’t expecting, is Sebastian. He’d seemed polite but a bit aloof last week when they first met. Chris wasn’t anticipating passionate and attentive and kind, his sarcastic tone from earlier giving way to a more genuine person underneath once the topic of conversation shifts to things that matter more than jokes about Chris’s lack of a social life.  
   
“Where are you from?” Sebastian asks, as if reading Chris’s thoughts about what he’d imagined an East Coast school to look like. His voice is so nice, clear and low and melodic.  
  
“Boston.”  
  
“Harvard?”  
  
Chris wrinkles up his nose, realizing he’s misunderstood, and hating to disappoint. “No, I mean I grew up in Boston.”  
   
“Oh.” A quiet breath is blown out between them, and then Sebastian laughs softly. “Actually, I can hear the accent, now that you say it.”  
   
“It comes out when I go back home.” Chris smiles. He isn’t at all resentful of that fact. He knows how he ends up sounding when he spends too much time with his family, and he couldn’t be happier about it. He wishes he’d never have to be away from them for long enough for the dialect to slip away. Having moved to Connecticut, he probably won’t be, any time soon. “But you meant what school?”  
   
“I did, but that seems like a pretentious question, now.”  
   
“My doctorate is from McGill.”  
  
Sebastian frowns for a moment, as if he’s trying to remember. “Canada?”  
  
Chris laughs. “Not good enough for you? It’s the best school in the country.”  
  
“Hey, I didn’t say that.” Sebastian holds his hands up, paper coffee cup still grasped between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m sure it’s very prestigious. But, so, this is your first experience in the Ivy League, then.”  
  
“It is. It’s not yours, I’m guessing?”  
  
“Princeton. And Brown, for my undergrad. Don’t bother being too impressed, I just have rich parents.” Sebastian’s eyes roll; degrading both his own abilities and his upbringing.  
  
“Old money?”  
  
The smile on Sebastian’s face is small, but soft. “Actually, no. Immigrants. I was born in Romania, lived there until I was a teenager. My step-Dad founded a tech company in the 90s after we moved here, and got lucky.”  
  
“Oh.” Chris winces. The thought that Sebastian doesn’t have much of an accent crosses his mind, but he doesn’t speak it out loud. “Sorry, that probably sounded snobby.”  
  
Sebastian shakes his head, his grin widening. “You’d have to do a lot worse than that to sound snobby around here.”  
  
“Right.”  
   
“I don’t love that part of it.” Sebastian’s thumb moves over the lid on his coffee cup, and he stares at it. Chris does, too. “All the superiority.”  
   
“You look the part, at least.” Chris grimaces and curses himself when he realizes how that comment could be taken. “That was supposed to be a compliment, even if it didn’t sound like one.”  
   
“Easier to fit in, sometimes. Go with the grain instead of against it.” He sounds just a little bit sad, and Chris can relate to that more than he’ll admit. He hadn’t liked the person California turned him into.  
   
He can imagine Sebastian out of the high fashion pieces and more comfortable at home in basketball shorts and an old, ripped t-shirt. The image he conjures up in his mind is a little too appealing.  
   
“I don’t really know my way around anywhere else. There are other faculties that I never have a reason to visit.” Sebastian takes a sip, and Chris watches too closely. “But we could wander around, if you want?”  
   
“No, it’s fine. This was more that enough, I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Chris tries to smile at him. Tries, and probably fails, to smile in a way that comes off grateful but casual. Instead, he probably looks eager and over-zealous and way too happy. He’s always been too obvious when he’s happy. It scares people off, sometimes, and that is the last thing he wants to do right now. Sebastian has really nice lips, but Chris also wants  _friends_ , and this person has the potential to be that so Chris would be stupid to ruin it by developing a crush on the first guy who’s offered to spend time with him.  
   
“I’m gay,” Sebastian says suddenly, and then he rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. God, I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that.”  
   
It feels like the blood stops in Chris’s veins. “Uh. Okay.”  
   
“I didn’t … sometimes straight guys are weird about it. I’m not saying you would be, I just didn’t want you to find out from someone else and feel like I was hiding it from you because I thought you  _would_ be weird. ‘Cause I’m not … hiding. I mean, I don’t walk around yelling about it, but it’s a thing people know. I’m babbling and I’m gonna shut up now.” He looks annoyed with himself.  
   
“That’s … that’s good. That you’re not hiding.” Chris doesn’t know what to say. Every cell in his brain is screaming at him to correct Sebastian’s assumption that he’s straight, but when he opens his mouth, the words don’t come. “I don’t … it doesn’t matter to me. Just so you know.”  
   
Sebastian looks at him, just for a moment, with uncertainty swimming in those blue eyes and Chris wants to grab him and kiss all that anxiety away. He stays motionless instead, and could kick himself for it. There are so many things he could say right now, if he had any semblance of a back-bone. But he doesn’t.  
   
*           *           *


	4. Chapter 4

The buzzing of his phone in his pocket startles him. He contemplates not answering, because he knows without looking exactly who is calling him. It’s been 15 minutes since Chris left, and Sebastian’s just been sitting on the bench, staring into the side of the ivy-covered building across the lawn, mind wandering nowhere important. He should get up and go back to his office. Or go home. Or just move at all. Instead he’s just zoned out, until the vibration against his leg rouses him roughly from the daydream.  
   
It will be worse if he ignores the call, so he doesn’t. “What?” he snaps, the word coming out far surlier than he’d meant it to.  
   
He can  _hear_  Hayley rolling her eyes. “Okay, grumpy bear. So I take it that means the date was a dud.”  
   
Sebastian sighs. It was the exact entire opposite of a dud, and that’s the problem. “It wasn’t a date.”  
   
“Maybe not by your definition. Out with it, then, what was the problem? Is he a Trump supporter? Does he say irregardless?”  
   
“I did not break up with that guy in grad school because he said irregardless.”  
   
“If you say so.”  
   
Pushing his free hand through his hair, Sebastian has the sudden urge to just slide down off the bench until he’s lying on the ground. One of his students walking by as he’s in the midst of an existential crisis is really all he needs in his life. “He’s straight, is the problem.”   
   
“How do you know?” Hayley presses.  
   
“Because I know.”  
   
“Did he say that?”  
   
“No. But I made it clear I was assuming it, and I gave him a bunch of chances to correct me and he didn’t. He’s tall and his smile is so nice and he has this cute little Boston accent and he was easy to talk to, and he’s straight.”  
   
“Oh dear.” Hayley chuckles sympathetically.  
   
Sebastian doesn’t respond. He’s said enough. He should be trying to talk himself out of this pointless attraction, not listing all the reasons why it will be rough going until he manages it. It would be a lot easier if he’d perceived any flaw he could focus on, but if there are any, Sebastian didn’t see them.  
   
“Well, that’s too bad.”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
“Where are you right now?”  
   
“On a bench outside the bookstore. He left a while ago and I’ve just been sitting here, like an idiot. Beating myself up for falling for a straight guy.”  
   
“A little dramatic, don’t you think? Given you met him a few days ago?”  
   
“You’re forgetting the banquet.”  
   
Hayley is quiet for a moment, and when she speaks her voice is soft and concerned. “Are you alright? Do we need to talk about this?”  
   
Sebastian sighs again, and it melts into a laugh. She’s right, he met this guy on Thursday. He’s being utterly ridiculous. “No. I’m fine.”  
   
“You will find someone, you know?” she continues, all the teasing dropped now. “This guy wasn’t it. That doesn’t mean there’s no one out there for you.”  
   
Sebastian doesn’t bother with the argument they both know is at the forefront of his mind whenever she says things like that. They’ve had that disagreement enough times, Sebastian doesn’t need to rehash it yet again, especially not sitting on a bench at his workplace watching students and colleagues walk past him. The head of the Linguistics department strolls by, giving Sebastian a small, friendly wave, that Sebastian returns.  
   
“Come over for dinner tonight. Anthony’s going to barbeque.”  
   
“Hales.”  
   
“Not because I feel sorry you. Because I don’t want you sitting home alone, moping.”  
   
“I’m not moping.”  
   
“Good. Then you can come over,” she says, no clear intention of letting him turn her down.  
   
“Fine.”  
   
“I’m humbled by your enthusiasm.”  
   
“I’ll see you in a few hours.”  
   
Sebastian hangs up without saying goodbye. He’ll hear about it later, but in the moment he doesn’t care. He gives himself a shake and gets up, tossing his empty coffee cup into a trash bin and heading back towards his office. Hayley goes easy on him, that evening, as he sits on her patio with a glass in his hand. She doesn’t mention Chris at all; the most Sebastian notices is her and Anthony exchanging a few knowing looks, like they’re talking about him in front of him with only their eyes. Sebastian sips whiskey on ice and lets it numb him. It makes no sense, for him to be in this much of a funk over someone who, like Hayley said, he’s known for less than a week. And he isn’t upset that Chris isn’t going to turn into anything more than a colleague; not really. He’s annoyed with himself. Annoyed that he’d allowed himself to think, even just for a few days,  _maybe_.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian does an exceptional job, for three days, of moving on with his life. He grades a large stack of essays on the Jesuit missions in Spanish America, with help from his graduate student T.A. He goes for a job before his morning class on Wednesday. He goes for dinner with a classmate from Brown when she emails indicating she’s in town for a few nights; a woman he was friendly with once upon a time but hasn’t seen in years. He goes to a Bulldogs game with Hayley, even though he hates football. She does too, but they support Anthony. Hayley grumbles about feminism and the continued existence of cheerleaders. Sebastian doesn’t complain about it out loud, but he can’t stand the smell of beer. It’s like mouldy bread, and it makes people act like idiots. But the Bulldogs win, and they cheer obediently at the appropriate times, and congratulate Anthony afterwards. Sebastian is halfway worried about running into Chris at the game, because he seemed like the kind of person who’d like sports, but if he’s there, Sebastian doesn’t see him. He very resolutely refrains from scanning the crowd between plays. Hayley invites him over again after the game, but Sebastian declines this time. He goes home, reads for a while with his long-haired cat on his chest, and goes to bed early.  
   
Then he runs into Chris again, in the library. He’s scanning the stacks in the newspaper archives, and sees a familiar side-profile through the shelves, seated at a table by the window. Chris is wearing glasses again. His pushed back hair is mussed up a little, a few light brown strands falling down into his eyes, as he squints down at whatever he’s reading. The sun shines in through the window and surrounds him like a halo. Sebastian stays motionless for a moment, watching perfect teeth come out to bite that plump bottom lip, trying to convince himself to turn and walk away as much as he’s trying to convince himself to go over and say hello. His eyes roll in frustration at himself for acting like a teenager in a fluffy movie, but it still takes another minute before he can make his feet move.  
   
“Hey,” he says as he walks closer, relieved his voice keeps steady.  
   
Chris looks up, pushing the hair out of his eyes. His face breaks into a big, genuine smile. “Hey! How’s it going?”  
   
Sebastian nods. “Yeah, it’s uh. Things are good. Y’know. Working.”  
   
“Yeah. I know working.” Chris’s smile goes soft and fond, and Sebastian’s insides turn to goo in his ribcage.   
   
“Why are you working here?” Sebastian asks. “Didn’t they give you an office?”  
   
“I like libraries,” Chris shrugs. “I get distracted in my office.”  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian nods again, and purposely keeps his mouth shut, because if he tries to fill the silence with chatter just for the sake of it he’s going to end up babbling like an idiot.  
   
“Researching?” Chris gestures toward the shelves behind him.  
   
“Kinda half-heartedly. I finished a book over the summer and I’m always keeping an eye out for new ideas.”  
   
“Can I ask what it’s about?” Chris sounds sincerely interested.  
   
Sebastian scrunches his nose and for a second actually considers breaking his rule. He can’t jinx it. “Sorry, I … just sent it off to the editor a few weeks ago, I have this superstition about keeping it to myself until I know it’s confirmed. I won’t even tell Hayley. That way if it gets rejected …”  
   
“No, I get it.” Chris keeps smiling at him. “Totally understandable. But, if it’s anything like your others, there’s no way it’ll get rejected.”  
   
“Thanks. When I get the green light, you’ll be the first to know.” It’s a ridiculous thing to say to a person he’s known less than a week, but it makes Chris look happy, so Sebastian doesn’t regret it at all. He’ll have to tell Chris and then swear him to secrecy as he calls Hayley ten seconds later, because she’ll be livid if she finds out he told someone else before her.  
   
“I can’t wait to drop everything and read it in one sitting the day it comes out.” Chris sounds like he actually means that, and Sebastian stares at him, trying to keep his mouth from falling open. He’s known people for a decade who haven’t been as nice to him as this man has been in the space of three conversations.  
   
He shouldn’t say it. It’s a terrible idea, truly idiotic, because Chris is straight and Sebastian doesn’t need to spend any more time pining after someone who won’t ever return the feelings he could so easily develop. A few more easy smiles, sincere compliments, a few more minutes sitting close enough to smell him, another look into those clear, ocean blue eyes, and Sebastian could fall harder than he has in years. He can see it all playing out so clearly in his mind. He knows exactly how this will end up. He knows he’ll wind up, a month from now, sitting on Hayley’s couch with her gently reminding him she  _told_  him not to let himself get in this deep. He knows he’ll find himself at 2am in the back room of the nightclub on Wall Street, alcohol thrumming in his veins and a pretty mouth on his neck attached to the best lookalike he can find in the place. He knows he’ll forget the guy’s name the minute it’s spoken, and he knows he’ll pretend it’s Chris and then hate himself in the morning so much that he’ll tape bedsheets to the walls to cover the mirrors in his apartment so he doesn’t have to face his reflection. It’s all practically guaranteed. Sebastian would bet money on it, if he could find someone to trick into gambling on the surety of his impending spiral.  
   
He’s never been any good at acting in his own best interests, so he says it anyway. “Hayley’s having a dinner party tomorrow. You should come.”  
   
Chris’s face lights up. His eyebrows raise and his smile is so bright and gorgeous, and Sebastian is in such an enormous amount of danger. “Really?”  
   
“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” he shrugs, trying so desperately to remain casual, indifferent, breezy. He likely doesn’t come across as anything close to it. “Couple other profs she works with. Anthony. Maybe his sister, I think Hales said she’s visiting.”  
   
“Anthony?”  
   
“Oh, right.” Sebastian had forgotten then haven’t been introduced yet. “Uh, Mackie. Hayley’s husband.”  
   
Chris stares at him, dumbfounded. It’s far cuter than it should be. “Your Anthropologist friend is married to the head coach of the football team.”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
“Are you kidding?”  
   
“Why would I be kidding about that?” Sebastian asks.  
   
Chris blows out a breath, flustered, like Sebastian had just said she’s married to George Clooney or something. “That’s amazing.”  
   
“Are you the president of his fan club or something?”  
   
Still grinning from ear to ear, Chris shakes his head. “Not quite. But he’s kind of a big deal. Like, a huge deal.”  
   
“You follow football, then.”  
   
“I’m from Boston,” Chris reminds him. “If you don’t live and breathe football, the rest of the neighborhood will get together and chase you out of town with pitchforks. I’m barely exaggerating.”  
   
“You definitely have to come, then. You can talk sports with Mackie while the rest of us pretend to listen. He’ll be stoked, actually, the rest of us are boring academics. He’ll probably corner you and talk your ear off the whole night.”  
   
“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing. I’ll be there. Can I bring anything?”  
   
“I doubt it, but I’ll ask Hales and let you know.” He feels his pockets for a pen, and comes up empty. “Let me borrow your pencil, I’ll write down the address.”  
   
Instead, Chris pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it over. “Put your number in, and then text it to me instead. I’ll lose a scrap of paper by this afternoon.”  
   
Sebastian grits his teeth and resolutely does not let anything show on his face. He is not, under any circumstances, about to make a fool of himself in the library over Chris asking for his number. He’s asking for it for completely necessary, non-romantic reasons, anyway, so the little thrill in Sebastian’s chest is entirely unwarranted, and overwhelmingly annoying. He takes the phone, finding a picture of a brown and white dog as the lock screen, posed in a pile of colorful fall leaves with a New England Patriots ball cap perched on his head. It’s adorable, and Sebastian smiles.  
   
“That’s Dodger,” Chris tells him.  
   
“He’s pretty cute. I’m more of a cat person, but he looks relatively irresistible.” Sebastian taps on the contacts app and adds his name and cell number. Then, he adds his office phone number and his email as well. If he’s going to be superfluous he might as well lean into it.  
   
“That doesn’t surprise me, actually. You seem like a cat person.”  
   
“Is that an insult?”  
   
“No.” Chris smiles with his teeth, perfect and straight and white like in a toothpaste commercial, and his fingers brush Sebastian’s as he hands the phone back.  
   
For a moment, they just look at each other, and Sebastian could swear his heart stops for a beat or two. Reluctantly, he says, “I guess I should stop bothering you.”  
   
“You aren’t bothering me.”  
   
“I meant I should let you get back to work.” Sebastian gestures to the stack of books on the table in front of Chris.  
   
“Oh. Yeah, probably a good idea.” It’s definitely Sebastian’s imagination that he sounds disappointed.  
   
“Text me so I have your number, I’ll send you Hayley’s address and the time and everything.”  
   
“I will.”  
   
“Okay. Uh. Yeah.” Sebastian nods. “Okay. See you.”  
   
He walks away before he has to face the reaction to his bumbled exit line. He mumbles  _idiot_ at himself under his breath as he heads for the stairs, but he’s barely out of sight when his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he opens it to a text from an unknown number.  
   
_Hi it’s Chris, from the teacher’s lounge last Thursday and the Starbucks on Monday and the library five seconds ago_  
   
The burst of warmth over his skin is like stepping into a hot shower. Sebastian leaves the library with his cheeks flushed, and his heart full, and brain revisiting the thought he’d had last week in the teacher’s lounge when Chris’s green sweater had turned his eyes to aqua and his masculine scent had filled Sebastian’s nose and left him light-headed. Leaving the country might turn out to be an excellent option after all. It might be the only way to save himself from absolute destruction.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“You know what I’m going to say.” Hayley stirs tomato sauce, simmering in a pot on the stove, with a wooden spoon, and then wipes her hands on the white apron covering her dark orange dress. It has a shiny gold zipper up the back, and decorative buttons down the front. Her hair is twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her head, sleek and sophisticated, and gold hoops dangle from her ears. Her lipstick is brown, nearly the color of her dark hair. She belongs in the pages of magazines, as always when she gets dolled up. Sebastian loves her like this, but he loves her just as much in khakis and a tilly hat, out in the field on a dig, covered in dust and sunburnt. He’s threatened for years to buy her a whip so she can fully embrace her resemblance to Indiana Jones when she’s dressed like that. So far, he hasn’t followed through on it. Maybe this Christmas is the year.  
   
“I do.” He examines his own appearance in the distorted reflection of the shiny chrome refrigerator. He’d gone with a casual grey suit and a turquoise shirt, unbuttoned at the top in a way that is meant to look nonchalant but definitely isn’t because he’d fussed over arranging it. He’d spent nearly twenty minutes twisting light-hold product into his hair until it was tousled just so, and he’d left his glasses at home.  
   
“Stop primping, you look fine.”  
   
Anthony comes out of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms in the mid-century bungalow, in jeans and a Bulldogs t-shirt. “Hey, Seabass, lookin’ fresh.”  
   
He claps Sebastian’s hand and gives him a one-armed hug.  
   
Hayley puts her hands on Anthony’s shoulders when he turns to her. “Darling. Gorgeous. Love of my whole entire life. You know I would love you to the ends of the earth even if you were wearing a potato sack instead of clothes. But could you please at least put on a sweater.”  
   
“Is the potato sack off the table?” Sebastian asks.  
   
Hayley fixes him with a hard look.  
   
“What, it would make for a good conversation piece.”  
   
“You’re not helping.”  
   
“I’m not trying to help.”  
   
“Yes, dear,” Anthony agrees, sighing exaggeratedly and disappearing back toward the bedrooms.  
   
Hayley smiles to herself in victory, and goes back to the sauce.  
   
“So?” Sebastian begins, encouraging her to resume their original topic of conversation. He’d be stupid to hope she’s forgotten and will let it go.  
   
“So, I don’t need to say it, do I? Since you already know.”  
   
“Yes, but you’re going to,” he says impatiently. “So just get it over with so we can enjoy ourselves.”  
   
Hayley looks at him, and rather than irritation, he finds pity in her brown eyes. That’s much worse. “He seems very sweet. He really does.”  
   
“Do you want me to uninvite him?”  
   
“No, gosh, of course not.”  
   
“Then what’s the problem?” Sebastian knows what the problem is. They’ve already established that.  
   
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”  
   
Sebastian sighs. He leans against the opposite counter, and crosses his arms. “I’m not doing anything. He’s nice, Hales, and he told me he hasn’t really met anyone yet. He just moved to a brand new city, new school, new everything. He deserves to make some friends, don’t you think?”  
   
“You don’t want to be his friend.”  
   
“Yes I do,” Sebastian protests, but it’s thin and they both know it.  
   
“You, my love, did not wear a shirt the exact color of your eyes because you want him to platonically appreciate how blue they are. You're hanging on hope that at some point he’ll be so enthralled by your smile he’ll decide to give up on women and ask you to marry him.”  
   
Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Now who's being dramatic?”  
   
“Am I wrong?”  
   
He’d like to say she is. She knows him too well for it to be worth lying. He looks at the floor, and hates the twist in his gut. “Wrong about the marriage proposal.”  
   
“But not about everything else.”  
   
“Is it so crazy to think there’s a possibility he could like me back?” Sebastian asks. Her objection to it isn’t based on that, and he knows that, but it’s a thought that’s been nagging at him, festering in the corners of his mind already fraught with insecurity and self-doubt. “I’m a nice person, for the most part. I could be somebody’s boyfriend. It doesn’t always have to be anonymous, I could … somebody could care about me one day.”  
   
Hayley stops stirring and turns to him, blinking tears out of her eyes as she pulls him into a tight hug. “Don’t say things like that,” she says tersely, against his ear. “Don’t even think them. Somebody is going to be  _so_  lucky to have you. They’ll love you so much they won’t be able to stand it.”  
   
He threads his fingers together at the small of her back, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I can be his friend. I can. It’s not like I’m in actually love with him or something, okay, I barely know the guy. He just seems like a good guy, and he’s alone in a new city and in need of some friends, so. I can be that.”   
   
He isn’t sure he believes it, but he wants to believe it.  
   
She sighs, pulls back to touch his cheek. “Alright.”  
   
She doesn’t believe him either.  
   
Chris shows up in a leather jacket. Anthony answers the door and Sebastian has to turn away and pretend to be helping Hayley in the kitchen until he takes it off, otherwise he’s going to make an idiot of himself. His sweater is red, bright against his pale skin, and he greets Hayley with a bouquet of daisies and a kiss on her cheek. He says hello to Sebastian with a soft smile and a brief hug, that leaves Sebastian’s skin tingling. He gushes over Anthony, making a big deal over him, and rambling through his thoughts on the last Patriots game with a bunch of words Sebastian doesn’t understand like blitz and touchback. Predictably, Anthony is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet at the prospect of having someone to talk about football with. He asks Hayley what she’s cooking and carries on about how good it smells, and about how interested he’s always been in Anthropology. Within minutes he’s nearly charmed the clothes off both of them, and Sebastian smirks to himself and feels at least somewhat vindicated. He’ll be able to tell Hayley later  _I told you so_  about how easy it is to spend ten seconds with this man and then want him in your life forever. The rest of Hayley’s guests arrive and nearly instantly they’re all swooning over him too.  
   
After dinner, Chris insists on helping Hayley with the dishes, overpowering her own insistence that they can be left until the morning. The image of him with yellow rubber-gloves on, chatting easily with Hayley as he scrubs plates and sticky pots, is too much, so Sebastian takes a drink outside to the patio. Anthony is talking to one of Hayley’s colleagues, and the other guests have split off into smaller groups as well. Sebastian barely knows most of them, because they work with Hayley, not with him. He knows their names and their faces, but not well enough to feel like striking up a conversation. He sits, in a wrought iron chair on the deck, and sips from the glass in his hand. In a few minutes, Anthony ends his conversation and comes over, dropping himself heavily into the chair beside Sebastian.  
   
He looks over, tossing Sebastian a wide-eyed expression and then chuckling quietly. “Boy. You’re in trouble.”  
   
Sebastian doesn’t need to ask for clarification. He swirls the ice cubes around in his glass and stares at them. “I know.”  
   
“ _I’m_ half a drink away from asking that dude out. And you know what, it would take me approximately four seconds to convince Hayley to let him move in with us and turn this monogamy into a ménage à trois. I think we could make him very happy, together.”  
   
Sebastian manages a small laugh. “Worth a shot. Maybe he’d be into it.”  
   
“Why are you doing this to yourself, man?” he asks, nearly exactly the way Hayley had two hours ago. “Just like – insult his mother or something so he never wants to see you again. Cut ties, wash him outta your life before he burns it to the ground.”  
   
“I should.” Sebastian agrees. “Don’t know if I can.”  
   
“That is extremely understandable.”  
   
“Mind if I join you?” Chris’s voice says from behind them. Sebastian looks up at him, shining blue eyes and a kind smile, and his stomach flips over itself. He panics, thinking Chris has been standing there for too long and heard something he shouldn’t have, but Chris makes no indication he did.  
   
“You can have my seat.” Anthony gets up and claps Chris on the shoulder. “I owe my sister some face time.”  
   
“I’ll see you Sunday,” Chris says. They’ve already made plans to watch some NFL game together at a sports bar. One evening and he’s already friends with Sebastian’s friends.  
   
Anthony goes back inside, and Chris sits in the chair he’d vacated. The smile he turns Sebastian’s way is small, but he looks happy. Sebastian’s throat is thick as he swallows.  
   
“I love your friends,” Chris says. He means it, too. It couldn’t be more obvious.  
   
“They love you back,” Sebastian tells him. “They’re smitten, both of them.”  
   
The smile on Chris’s face broadens, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “Thank you for inviting me. I haven’t gone out since I moved here, and it’s been almost a month, so it was getting pretty pathetic.”  
   
“Let me know, next time you feel like getting out of the house, if you don’t find anyone better to do things with. We’ll see a movie or something,” comes out of Sebastian’s mouth before he has time to think better of it and stop himself.  
   
Chris nods, and sounds honest as he replies, “I’d like that.”  
   
Sebastian swallows again. He catches Hayley’s eye from inside, watching them through the glass patio doors. He sees her shoulders move as she sighs, and he can feel her worrying from twenty yards away. He knows he’s making terrible decisions right now. He knows it, but he’s a masochist, apparently. He knows he should get out while he can. Likely, he’ll dive in deeper instead, and end up with a broken heart. He’s already on that course, it seems, and can’t turn it around.  
   
*           *           *


	5. Chapter 5

Chris sleeps as late as his body will let him on Saturday morning. He wakes up briefly just after seven, but pulls the blankets up over his head and falls back asleep with Dodger cuddled next to him until almost two hours later. When he finally convinces himself to get up, it’s another half hour before Dodger lets Chris drag him out of the bed and send him outside into the backyard. There’s a list of things he should be doing today, but he doesn’t do any of them. He makes coffee and spends an inordinate amount of time sitting at the kitchen island and scrolling through his phone, reading increasingly troubling news stories he would normally be incensed about but today they wash over him like white noise, and getting lost in a YouTube spiral for longer than is likely healthy.   
   
He showers and takes Dodger for a long walk by the water. Even the ocean is nicer on the East Coast, he decides, as they wander along a public beach. Dodger attracts a series of people into their orbit as they walk, like he always does. Little kids who want to throw sticks for him to fetch, which of course Chris allows, smiling as he watches a girl with orange curls who looks about four years old grab Dodger around the neck and hug him. He chats with the girl’s father for a few minutes, until the man tells her they have to go home. An elderly couple let Dodger sniff and lick their hands, and the man produces a dog treat from his pocket.  
   
“We don’t have a dog,” the woman tells Chris, smiling lovingly at her husband. “He just stuffs his pockets with treats when we go walking, in case we come across any. We usually do.”  
   
Near the end of the public part of the beach, an attractive woman pauses her morning jog to come over and scratch Dodger’s ears, and tell him he’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. The way she looks at Chris is like she’s considering saying the same to him. She smiles, and touches her hair and Chris’s arm, and blinks a lot. She’s really pretty. Dark eyes and curly hair, a smile that takes over her whole face. A month ago, Chris might have asked for her number. He’s stupidly optimistic like that – running from a bad breakup in California, a shitty end to what ended up the latest in a series of shitty relationships – should leave him wounded and wary of getting hurt again. And in a way, it does, he’s just always hopeful something better is around the corner, no matter how often he’s been proven wrong. A month ago he would have asked, and taken her somewhere nice on a Friday night, and swept her off her feet. She wants him to ask, it’s so obvious he’s almost embarrassed when other people pass by them and look at them and can clearly see how hard she’s flirting. Her name is Angela and she’s beautiful and he should ask. He doesn’t. He tells her they have to be going, and thanks her for the conversation, and feels genuinely bad about the disappointed look on her face as he walks away with Dodger.  
   
It’s mulling the interaction over in his head as they walk home that smacks him with a realization he should have come to a week ago but didn’t – that he isn’t just in a place of not looking for a relationship. That’s where he was when he arrived here. He was keyed up for a fresh start and a new life and excited at the prospect of rebuilding himself without someone else there morphing pieces of him into who they wanted him to be. That lasted barely any time at all, and now he’s sunk right back into that dizzying, vaguely nauseating feeling of  _wanting_  someone.  
   
He’s more productive in the afternoon. He prepares his lecture notes for the week, reads a few articles he’s thinking of assigning for one of his courses in the winter semester, and gives Dodger a bath. The bathroom only ends up half drenched in soapy water, so Chris considers it a win. He calls Scott again, and they chat for longer this time, about Chris’s new job and Scott’s new car, about nothing and anything all at once, and it’s easy and soothing, even though a few times Chris finds himself almost working up the courage to blurt some things out and then backs away from them at the last minute. Scott asks about potential romance again, and for just a moment Chris considers telling him about sparkly eyes and brown hair and the nicest smile he’s ever seen but switching the gender. He doesn’t do that either, and in the end he’s glad he doesn’t. It would feel worse than a lie of omission, to be that deceitful. It’s one thing to hide something from his brother; it’s another thing entirely to outright lie to him.  
   
He goes to bed early even though he’d slept in, and he wakes up in the middle of the night, a noise outside yanking him roughly from a nice dream. Blinking in the dark, images come back to him from his subconscious. It had so clearly been Sebastian’s face, smiling at him, talking to him in that soft, soothing voice. Sebastian’s big hands on his chest, lips on his neck. His lips are always stained red, always looking like he’s just been kissed breathless even when he’s just walking around. Because he’s still half asleep, and because it seems he’s already so infatuated with this person after such an embarrassingly short time that he might as well just lean into the self-destruction, Chris closes his eyes and tries to fall back into the dream. Tries to imagine how much darker those lips would get when they  _had_  been kissed until Sebastian was panting underneath him. When he wakes again in the morning, it’s with half an erection and a frustrated lump in his chest that he can’t swallow over.  
   
Staring at himself in the mirror as he fixes his hair makes him want to smack himself in the face. It’s way, way too fast to be this far gone for someone he hardly knows. It’s Chris’s worst quality. He always does this, he always falls too hard and too fast, rushes into things headfirst, barely pausing to breathe or think before he’s jumping without a parachute, and his track record is, unfortunately, abysmal. There had been a few relationships in his early 20s that were nice while they lasted, but the point is, none of them lasted. And his last several – every single one in California – were disastrous. He’d felt so bad about himself after each one ended that he’d sworn to slow himself down next time, take a minute to actually get to know who someone is before attaching himself to them in a way that makes inevitable separation more painful than it had to be, and then every time he’d break his own promise. He feels it happening all over again. He’s practically buzzing with the urge to call Sebastian up and ask him out, tell him he loves him, ask him to move in, and he  _barely_  knows this person. What he does know, he likes a whole lot, and that’s the whole of the problem.  
   
The other problem, when he calms down enough to think clearly again, is that he’s lonely, here. His family is close but not close enough to see them on a daily basis, and he hasn’t connected with anyone else.  He’s been introduced around, he’s made small-talk, but he’s only met three people that he has any desire to socialize with outside of work. Even if the idea of asking Sebastian on a date wasn’t reckless and premature, Chris had loved spending time on that Friday night with his friends, and if Sebastian isn’t into him like that – and Chris has no reason to believe he is – he’ll lose the only three people who have said more than two words to him in weeks. Not to mention the fact that his last boyfriend – his only boyfriend – hadn’t been a professor, let alone one at the school Chris taught at. He could keep the relationship completely separate from his work life. If he starts dating a prof who works in the same department as Chris does, keeping it private will be impossible. Chris wishes he didn’t care about that, he wishes he wasn’t such a coward about it, but he does care. It scares him, the idea of walking down the hallway and knowing everyone he passes knows things about him.   
   
Chris is so in his head about it, creating problems where probably none exist, and glossing over the places where he should be more concerned, and making the entire thing a much taller mountain than it needs to be – like he always does. He over-thinks everything. Always has, even as a little kid. Anxiety wells up in his chest, fears and uncertainties and insecurities and too many what-ifs to keep track of. Chris goes for a run to shake it all out, that turns into a sprint because jogging doesn’t cut it. Running until he’s gasping for air and sweating and coughing as he struggles to breathe doesn’t help either.  
   
He meets Anthony at a sports bar called Brady’s, near the university campus, on Sunday afternoon. The Patriots aren’t playing, but Chris has been dying for anyone to talk football with since he moved here so he’d watch any team. Anthony greets him with a high-five and a friendly smile, and they order beer and hot wings and Chris blissfully exists outside of his scrambled mind for a few hours. He likes this guy a lot – he’s outgoing, easy to talk to, and painfully funny. He has Chris laughing so much his stomach hurts. They complain about bad calls and fumbles, and cheer over touchdowns even though Chris doesn’t particularly care for any of the teams ESPN is broadcasting, and he suspects Anthony doesn’t either. It’s still relaxing, and the most fun Chris has had in the month since he moved here. He suggests making it a regular thing, playing it off like he’s sort of joking in case Anthony isn’t into the idea, but the grin and the  _hell yeah!_ he receives in return is genuine.  
   
“Do you know how often I have to hear about interrogating sources and reading an object and I don’t even know the fuck what else, being around Hales and Seabass all the time?” Anthony complains. “I love the crap outta both of them, don’t get me wrong, but yeah, I could use someone to bitch about the Steelers with instead.”  
   
“Oh man, I fuckin’ hate the Steelers,” Chris groans. “And wait, Seabass?”  
   
“He isn’t the biggest fan of that nickname,” Anthony says, with a wicked grin. “Which is why I rarely call him anything else.”  
   
Chris smiles back, although he’d be lying if he said he was hoping Sebastian wouldn’t come up in conversation. He could have used an afternoon of not thinking about him. He’s been thinking about him entirely too much as it is, this week. It can’t be good for him. “How do you guys all know each other?” he asks, instead of changing the subject like he should. “I mean, I know two of you are married …”  
   
“Hales and Seb have known each other since they were teenagers. They went to college together. I didn’t meet him until we started dating, but they’re kind of a packaged deal, the two of them. I figured that out fairly early.” He takes a long drink, and then wipes the foam off his lips with the back of his hand. “You can’t date one without having to adopt the other, too. But he’s great, so it’s not so bad.”  
   
Chris nods. He drinks too, while he tries to figure out what to say. “I can see that, I guess. They seem pretty close. How long have you been married?”  
   
“Six months.”  
   
“Oh. Hey, that’s pretty new. Congrats, man.”  
   
“Thanks.”  
   
“Goin’ well so far?”  
   
“Yeah, it’s great. Even with our 36 year old gay son sleeping in our guest bedroom more than he probably should.” He’s joking about that, Chris can tell, but he wonders if there’s a hint of truth in it as well.  
   
“Is he …” he begins, but then trails off quickly, having no idea where the sentence was going when he started it. He shakes his head. “We shouldn’t be talking about him when he isn’t here, that’s not really fair.”  
   
Anthony nods and hums in agreement, or maybe just acceptance. “What about you? I don’t see a ring. You got a girl?”  
   
“Not at the moment.” Chris’s chest tightens. He doesn’t understand why it feels like a lie, when it isn’t.  
   
“Setting people up is Hayley’s dream. Put her on the case and she’ll have you married within a year.”  
   
Chris knows the smile he attempts turns more into a grimace. “Nah, I … kinda just got out of something, not long before I came here. I should probably just be on my own for a while. Get settled in, and all that.”  
   
“Fair enough.” Anthony is looking at him like he wants to ask further questions, but instead he switches the topic back to the game, and Chris is grateful for it. He’s very much in need of an afternoon distracted from all the thoughts that have been running through his head the last few days.  
   
*           *           *  
   
For a full two weeks, Chris keeps himself away. He throws himself into work, and research, and spends two weekends in a row with his family in Boston, sleeping cramped in the twin that’s still in his childhood bedroom. His parents seem thrilled to see him, the first weekend. When he shows up late Friday night on the second, they exchange looks of concern between each other, but don’t say anything about it. There’s a moment the next morning when it seems almost like Lisa is trying to coax him, subtly, into talking about whatever’s bothering him, but Chris pastes on his fake smile and brushes it off and she doesn’t push for information. He helps his dad mend the fence in the backyard, grateful for an excuse to get his blood pumping and his mind focused on something simple and uncomplicated.  
   
The following Tuesday, he notices a poster up in the hallway outside the Graduate student lounge, advertising a free public lecture  _world renounced scholar Sebastian Stan_ is giving, in an auditorium on campus that afternoon. Chris feels his stomach flip over itself, and tries to play it off as a group of students bustle past him on their way to class. His resolve, only two weeks old, shatters like glass. He’s wanted to see Sebastian again every day since the last time. He’s dreamt about his eyes and his smile, imagined how soft his hair would be between Chris’s fingers, looked back through Sebastian’s catalogue on his faculty page on the website and read several more of his published articles, marveling over his brilliant analysis. Chris is torturing himself anyway, regardless of whether he’s staying away from the man, so it’s pointless to keep his distance. He types the building and room number into his phone, and heads over a few hours later.  
   
Sebastian is on the stage at the bottom of the sloped room. His black blazer looks like velvet, and his white shirt is casually unbuttoned at the top. His hair is perfectly imperfect; ruffled like bed-head but intentionally untidy in that effortlessly cool way of his. He’s going through a stack of papers in his hand, reading them over as the audience filters in, his lips just barely moving in silent review. Chris has to look away and focus on finding a seat or he’ll start drooling right there in the doorway. He sits, halfway up the rows and near the center, and forces himself to look at his phone instead of staring down toward the stage.  
   
“Hello there, handsome!” a familiar, melodically British accent rings out behind him.  
   
Chris looks up into Hayley’s smiling face. “Are you this nice to everyone or did I just get lucky somehow?”  
   
“Only people who deserve it.” Hayley points at the chair beside Chris, where his coat and bag are draped haphazardly. “That seat taken?”  
   
“Is now,” he tells her, moving his stuff to the floor.  
   
She sits next to him, and squeezes his forearm with a big smile on her pretty face. “It’s so nice of you to be here. Sebastian will be so happy to see you.”  
   
The thought puts butterflies in Chris’s stomach. As if Sebastian had heard them, Hayley is waving toward the stage, and Chris has to look because it would be weird if he didn’t. He catches Sebastian’s eye, and even from twenty rows back, he can see a look of pleasant surprise on Sebastian’s face. He waves, small and awkward, keeping his hand low by his waist so as not to be obvious about it, and Chris returns it in much the same fashion. For just another second Sebastian’s gaze lingers, and then he goes back to his pages.  
   
Chris swallows a few times, to wet his dry mouth. “Thank you again, for that night at your house. I had a great time.”  
   
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll add your name to all future guest lists.”  
   
Sebastian’s voice rings out through the sound system, speakers in front of and behind where Chris is sitting. “We’ll get started, if everyone could find a seat.”  
   
His voice surrounding Chris makes it difficult to pay attention at first, as he launches into his lecture on incorporating indigenous populations into the scope of the Atlantic world during American settler colonialism. When Chris manages to start paying attention, it’s enthralling. Sebastian is a fantastic lecturer, much better than Chris is. He’s so animated about everything he says, gesturing with his hands and enthusiastically outlining the research he’s compiled, keeping the entire auditorium hanging on his every word. He explains empathetically how important it is to allow historically oppressed communities to tell their own stories, and not cultivate a situation where a bunch of white academics are speaking over them as they try to reclaim their history. Chris is captivated by him.  
   
In a desperate act of self-preservation, Chris had been trying to convince himself this week that his attraction to Sebastian was just that – physical attraction. He’s an undeniably good-looking person, and Chris had nearly talked himself into believing he was just lonely, and Sebastian is nice to look at, and it didn’t go further than that. He was wrong. It goes a lot further. This man is so smart, and passionate about his work, and he’d been so sweet to take Chris in like a lost puppy, welcoming Chris into his personal life so soon after meeting him. Once or twice, Chris can feel Hayley’s eyes on him, her face turned sideways and watching him instead of Sebastian, but Chris can’t tear his eyes away from the stage.  
   
When Sebastian finishes an hour later and thanks the crowd for coming, Chris applauds along with everyone else and feels like the earth has been moved under his feet.  
   
“Are you alright?” Hayley asks beside him. “You look a little … perturbed.”  
   
Chris doesn’t mean to say it. He hasn’t even admitted it out loud to himself, but as people around them get up and gather their things and begin to leave the auditorium, Chris blurts out, “I like him.”  
   
“So do I,” Hayley says, laughing a little; not understanding what Chris means. When Chris doesn’t answer, she seems to clue in. “Oh. I didn’t know you were … ”  
   
“Fuck,” Chris breathes. He rubs his hand over his mouth.  
   
For what feels like a long time, Hayley doesn’t respond, and Chris can’t look at her. It’s out, hanging in the air between them, and he hadn’t meant to let it slip but he can’t take it back now, and she’s likely going to tell Sebastian. He’s done for.  
   
Finally, when Hayley does speak, her voice is soft and careful. “Here’s the thing. Anything that he may or may not have said to me about you … I am bound to secrecy by my position as the best friend. But what I will say, if you’re not too adverse to taking some unsolicited advice from a new friend, is I think you should go up there, right now, tell him how much you enjoyed the lecture, and then ask him to go for coffee.”  
   
Chris blinks, and absorbs her words in slow-motion. He finally looks away from Sebastian on the stage, shaking the hands of people who have come up to speak to him, and turns to Hayley. She’s looking at the stage as well, but she’s grinning from ear to ear, and Chris’s stomach churns. Hope is so, so dangerous.  
   
“You think that would go well for me, is what you’re saying?” he asks, hardly daring to believe it.  
   
“I think it would go very well.”  
   
He’s frozen in place for just another second, and then all at once, Chris finds the backbone he’s been missing. He leans over to kiss Hayley on the cheek, and then he grabs his bag and his coat and makes his way quickly down to the stage, thankfully managing it without tripping over his own feet. When Sebastian sees him, he quickly excuses himself from the conversation he’d been having with two other History professors Chris knows he’s been introduced to, although he couldn’t be paid to remember their names right now over the rushing of blood in his ears.  
   
“Hey!” Sebastian says brightly. He looks truly happy to see Chris, like Hayley had said he would be. “How are things? Haven’t seen you in a while.”  
   
“I know.” Chris wrinkles his nose apologetically. “I meant to text you, after the party at Hayley’s. Just to … thank you again, for inviting me. I don’t know why I never did.”  
   
“That’s okay.” Sebastian shakes his head. “You didn’t have to.”  
   
“This was awesome. I learned a lot, and … you’re … you’re good.” He’s stumbling over the words, and he knows it.  
   
“Thank you.” There’s a funny smile on his face. Chris ignores it, because it’s nerve-wracking to consider what it might mean.  
   
A group of three women Chris doesn’t recognize appear at the other end of the stage, looking over at them expectantly. Chris points at them without thinking. “I shouldn’t keep you from your adoring fans.”  
   
“Oh, God, please,” Sebastian mutters. “Please keep me from them. I hate being fussed over.”  
   
“I won’t congratulate you again, then.”  
   
The funny smile is back. “Maybe I don’t mind so much if it’s you.”  
   
Chris feels his heat skip several beats, and he throws caution to the wind, or takes the leap, or whatever other metaphor, and goes for it. “Do you wanna get a cup of coffee?”  
   
“Now?”  
   
“Unless you have somewhere else to be.”  
   
“I don’t, actually.” Sebastian shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. That sounds great.”  
   
*           *           *


	6. Chapter 6

The bar that has become his usual haunt doesn’t feel comforting in the way it usually does, as Sebastian downs his third whiskey and soda. The rhythmic thump of the baseline is too loud. The neon lights are too bright. The clientele looks as trashy as Sebastian feels, in a gay bar on a Wednesday night, trolling for something to make them feel less like their lives are heading nowhere, or to make them feel something they can pretend is satisfying on a level further than physical, if only for one night. Sebastian can’t judge them when he’s here for the same reasons. He throws back the rest of his drink and looks around, the alcohol blurring things nicely, just enough to make him momentarily forget he’s hard up for a man who doesn’t want him back. There is a tall man across the room with scruffy facial hair that is about the right length. His hair is too dark, and his shoulders aren’t broad enough, but if Sebastian squints and lies to himself a little, he’ll do. He makes his way over, communicating what he wants with his eyes so they don’t have to speak to each other, because this guy’s voice won’t be right and that will ruin it.  
   
His head thunks against the wall as he’s slammed into it, just this side of painful, and lips are on his, rough and fast, teeth and tongues mixed up in it. Sebastian kisses back, hands in a stranger’s hair, hips pushing against his, words that should be flattering growled at him,  _so hot, so sexy, just begging for it_. Sebastian snaps at him to shut up. He doesn’t want to talk, he wants to forget. The man doesn’t shut up, and Sebastian lasts only another minute before it all shatters. Because Chris wouldn’t be like this. Sebastian has no proof but he knows it anyway, like he knows his own name. Chris would be sweet and gentle and affectionate, Chris wouldn’t snarl that Sebastian was begging for it 30 seconds into their first kiss. He’d say nicer things, real compliments instead of bad porn dialogue. His hands on Sebastian’s hips would be warm instead of forceful, his mouth would be soft instead of biting and greedy. Sebastian pushes the man back, harder than he means to.  
   
“Oh, you wanna play rough?” the man asks, a lewd sneer on his face, and he moves back in so Sebastian has to shove him again.  
   
“Get off me.”  
   
“What the fuck, dude, you’re the one that came over here.”  
   
He smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne. Sebastian hadn’t noticed right away, but now the smell churns his stomach. “I know. Sorry, just … sorry.”  
   
He stumbles away, and his heart thumps in his chest, panic rising in his throat and choking him. People are staring, and Sebastian practically runs to the exit, terrified he’s about to break down in the middle of a crowded bar. The cool September air on his face when he gets outside calms him enough to force a few deep breaths into his lungs and then begin the walk home. The self-loathing begins almost immediately, but at this point it’s almost comforting. At least it’s a feeling he’s familiar with.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Hayley sits on the green velvet couch in Sebastian’s office, legs crossed and sipping tea from a to-go cup. She prefers a cup and saucer, and keeps several in her own office, but Sebastian doesn’t. She’s chided him on multiple occasions on the crass nature of American mobile beverage containers, as if he has any control over this country and their obsession with eating and drinking in their cars. He always reminds her that he wasn’t born here either, and usually she responds with a friendly dig about how he’s been here longer than she has and therefore has been Americanized. She isn’t wrong. He doesn’t remember all that much about Romania, and hasn’t been back since he left with his mother.  
   
“So? Spill!” Hayley orders, setting the paper cup down on the coffee table in front of them.  
   
“Spill what?” Sebastian asks warily. It’s never good for him when she begins a conversation already accusing him of something.  
   
“I can’t believe we’ve been sitting here for almost ten minutes and you haven’t told me about your date.”  
   
“What date?”  
   
Her eyebrows raise. “What date? Was it that forgettable?”  
   
For just a second, Sebastian thinks she somehow found out he kissed a stranger at a bar the night before, which doesn’t make a bit of sense to him. Then, he realizes what she’s referring to. “You’re talking about Chris? It wasn’t a date. Just like last time wasn’t either. I’m really trying to be his friend.”  
   
Hayley stares at him like he’s just grown an extra limb. “What?”  
   
“What  _what_?” Sebastian asks, still confused.   
   
“You … did he say that?”  
   
“Did he say what?”  
   
“That it wasn’t a date.”  
   
Sebastian feels like they’re having two separate conversations. “Why would he have to say it? When heterosexual men go out for coffee with other men, it isn’t a date.”  
   
“But did you ask him?” she insists.  
   
“Ask him  _what_?” Sebastian asks, getting louder as he loses his patience. “Whether we were on a date? What a fucking weird question, why would I have asked him that?”  
   
Hayley just looks at him, and her lips press together. She’s practically vibrating, wild-eyed, but then she looks away like she doesn’t want him to see. It’s too late, Sebastian did see and he knows that expression on her face.  
   
“Okay, spit it out.”  
   
“I don’t know what you mean,” Hayley says primly, brushing her hair out of her eyes.   
   
“Yes you do. C’mon, I’m not enjoying this game. You know something and you’re gonna tell me right now.”  
   
“Fine!” she cries, theatrical and pretending to be annoyed. “Fine, if you’re going to force me to be a bad friend, force me to betray someone’s confidence, fine. If you can live with that.”  
   
He looks at her, communicates  _well? go ahead_  with his eyes, and she can barely contain the smile on her face.  
   
“He likes you.”  
   
Sebastian blinks. “Excuse me?”  
   
“He told me. It was a date, Seb. He likes you.”  
   
He hears the words, but doesn’t absorb them right away. Like his brain is stuck in quicksand, they just float in the air, and it takes Sebastian a minute before he can remember what those words mean. Then he flips, lightening fast, between extended confusion and denial because she must be joking and bright blooming hope and fear that if it isn’t true, he’ll end up much worse off than he was when this conversation began.  
   
“You … are you being serious?”  
   
“Yes!” she cries, and then she laughs. “Did you really not realize?”  
   
Sebastian’s eyes slip out of focus as he tries to remember details of Tuesday afternoon he had glossed over, his brain trying to protect him by telling him none of it meant anything. Chris buying him coffee. Putting a hand on his back. Smiling at him, that big bright smile that makes Sebastian’s chest tighten.  
   
“Shit,” he surmises.  
   
Hayley’s hands fly to cover her mouth, holding back a chorus of gleeful giggles. “You’re hopeless.”  
   
“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” Sebastian demands.  
   
“Well!” she says defensively. “I didn’t think I needed to, because five minutes after he told me, the two of you were leaving the auditorium together! I didn’t think you’d be too thick to realize he was asking you out!”  
   
“He told you on Tuesday? At my lecture?”  
   
“He stared at you all starry-eyed the entire time, I had trouble paying attention to what you were saying because I was looking at  _him_ , looking at you. And then it slipped out, I don’t think he meant to say it.”  
   
“What exactly did he say?”  
   
“ _I like him_ ,” Hayley quotes.  
   
“But that could mean –”  
   
“It could, but it didn’t,” she interrupts. “He meant it the other way. He has feelings for you, and that was a date.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head – not refuting her claims, just unable to wrap his mind around it.   
   
“I wish I’d been filming this,” she laughs, delighted and smug. “They’re always joking on Twitter about how lesbians are useless when it comes to romance, but it’s you lot, too. You’ve  _both_  been sulking around for over a month now, with ridiculous school-boy crushes on each other, not realizing the other felt the same way.”  
   
Sebastian’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Numbly, he pulls it out, and like a scene from a romantic comedy is playing out in real time, it’s Chris. He wordlessly shows Hayley the screen, and she squeaks.  
   
“Answer it!”  
   
He almost doesn’t want to, because anything he’ll say in his current state will definitely be embarrassing, but he does anyway. His voice cracks over the word, “Hi.”  
   
“Hey,” Chris returns. His voice is higher than normal, like he’s nervous too. “Um. I was thinking, and it kinda occurred to me a day later that maybe I wasn’t clear, the other day. When we hung out. That it, that it wasn’t hanging out. Or, not just that.”  
   
He’s tripping over his words, and it’s so damn endearing that Sebastian might explode.  
   
“What was it?” he asks, playing dumb, because he can’t very well tell Chris that he’s sitting on his couch with Hayley having the very conversation Chris is awkwardly skating around.  
   
“I meant it as … more than friends. If. I don’t know if you want that. It’s okay if you don’t. It’s fine, honestly, don’t feel like – I just. Wanted to be … clear. If I wasn’t. That I could want more, if you do. If … I’m gonna stop talking now.” Chris laughs at himself, and then swears, and then goes quiet.  
   
“Yeah,” is all Sebastian’s malfunctioning brain can come up with in response.  
   
“Yeah?” Chris repeats, sounding hopeful.  
   
“I want that, too. If you do.”  
   
Hayley tips her head back on the couch and covers her face with her hands, and Sebastian swats at her.  
   
“Okay. Good, that’s … good. Um, so, Friday. Tomorrow, I guess, tomorrow night, can I … take you out?”  
   
“Yes.” Sebastian hates how eager he sounds. Hayley will be teasing him about this when they’re 90.  
   
“Great. I don’t, uh … I’ll figure out where, and let you know. I don’t know any nice restaurants in this town but I’ll … I probably should have figured that out before I asked.”  
   
“I know a nice place,” Sebastian tells him.  
   
“Okay, good. I’m gonna hang up now, before I say something stupid. Or before I say  _more_ stupid things.”  
   
“Okay.”  
   
“Bye.”  
   
The line goes quiet before Sebastian can return it. He sets the phone down on the coffee table in front of him and stares at it.  
   
“Anthony is going to die when I tell him about this,” Hayley says.  
   
“Do you have to?”  
   
“Of course I have to.” She ruffles his hair like he’s five years old, and stands up. “Tragically, I have a class to get to. Try not to sit here swooning all day.”  
   
He doesn’t say goodbye to her either. He slides back on the couch once she’s gone, his head resting against the cushions, and blows out a breath. He swears at the ceiling, and then laughs, and then swears again. Every minute until it’s Friday evening is going to last an eternity, Sebastian can already tell.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris picks him up in a navy pick-up truck. As soon as he sees it pull up to the curb out of the window of his fourth floor apartment, Sebastian knows it’s Chris even though he can’t see the driver inside. It has to be. It’s exactly what Sebastian would have guessed he’d drive. Chris texts that he’s outside, and Sebastian is already halfway down the stairs so he doesn’t reply. Chris looks up when he sees the front door opening, and gives Sebastian a cute little wave. Sebastian tries not to react.  
   
“You look nice,” Chris tells him, as he climbs into the passenger’s seat.  
   
“You don’t have to woo me,” Sebastian says.  
   
Chris grins and shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe I want to.”  
   
The thought puts butterflies in Sebastian’s stomach. “So, you’re a pick-up truck kind of person.”  
   
“They’re practical.” Chris pulls the truck away and accelerates down the street.  
   
“Mmhm,” Sebastian hums. “And it has nothing at all to do with the manly aesthetic.”  
   
“Nope,” Chris answers, making a joke out of the lie. “Nothing even remotely to do with those commercials where they dump gravel into the bed in slow motion. A guy in cowboy boots all dusty and macho.”  
   
“Please tell me you don’t own cowboy boots.”  
   
With a gorgeous laugh, Chris shakes his head. “Unfortunately I don’t. Might have to remedy that someday.”  
   
“I figured it was you before you even texted. It’s very Bawh-stun.” Sebastian imitates the accent exaggeratedly.  
   
Chris laughs again. “Hey, c’mon, I don’t sound that bad.”  
   
“Not quite. Bet you would if you were drunk.”  
   
“You might not be wrong about that.” Chris turns that bright smile toward Sebastian, and his bravado wavers in it’s wake. Chris could make the sun come out through the clouds with that smile.  
   
“And, I didn’t say it was bad. I like it.”  
   
The smile intensifies, but a pink tinge takes over his cheeks as well. “Yeah?”  
   
Sebastian nods.  
   
“So, how ‘come you don’t have an accent? You’re the one who was born in a different country.”  
   
“Because I worked my ass off on getting rid of it, when we moved here.”  
   
“Why?”  
   
“I was 13, which is shitty enough on its own without being the weird new kid who didn’t speak English very well. And it was the 90s, so, I was like the embodiment of the cartoon Communist those kids had been fed their whole childhood.” Sebastian shrugs. “Wanted to fit in.”  
   
A brief shadow of sadness crosses over Chris’s face. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”  
   
“I made friends eventually.” It isn’t the time to launch into a therapy session about his lonely adolescence, his broken English and misunderstanding of American culture made worse by the fact that he knew he was gay and was terrified to tell anyone. There might be a good time, in the future. Sebastian doesn’t talk about it very much, but Chris makes him feel like he could say anything, spill out all his darkest secrets, and they’d be met with comfort and understanding.   
   
“Say something to me in Romanian.”  
   
“Ai trecut printr-un semn de oprire.”  
   
Chris’s eyes flash like it’s the nicest thing he’s ever heard. “What does that mean?”  
   
“You just ran a stop sign.”  
   
“Wait, did I actually?” Chris looks up into the rear-view mirror. “Shit.”  
   
Sebastian smiles so much his cheeks hurt. “Distracted?”  
   
“I guess.” His laugh is shaky and embarrassed, and then louder when he sees Sebastian grinning at him. “Shut up.”  
   
Sebastian had chosen a seafood restaurant on the wharf, figuring Chris would be into that since he’s from this area of the country. They get a table by the window, overlooking the bay. Chris is gorgeous in candlelight. Sebastian almost wants to avoid looking at him, because he’s sure his own face is stuck permanently in a dopey, dreamy grin like he’s in love already. He should be humiliated by it, but Chris just gazes back at him. They order wine, and calamari, and it’s textbook romantic and it’s been a really long time since Sebastian has been on a proper date.  
   
“Can I ask you something?” Sebastian says, watching Chris chew and trying not to stare too obviously at the dot of tzatziki he wants to lick off Chris’s lip.  
   
“Yeah, ‘course.” Chris does lick his lips, and gets the sauce, and Sebastian tears his eyes away.  
   
“You, uh. I guess I know now, that you’re into men. But you didn’t tell me, when I told you.” He’s aware after he says it that it isn’t actually a question.  
   
Chris nods, and his expression darkens a little. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I should have.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m just curious, why you didn’t.”  
   
For a minute, Chris doesn’t answer. He looks at the table and licks his lips again, like he’s gathering his thoughts.  
   
Sebastian hates having put that pensive, anxious look on his face. He reaches out across the table and takes Chris’s hand, threading their fingers together, and Chris shifts his gaze to that instead.   
   
“I’ve only been with one guy,” he says eventually. “At my last school. I’m a late bloomer, I guess. Took me a really long time to figure out I was bisexual and then even longer to admit it to anyone. I still haven’t told my family.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Sebastian says gently. He rubs his thumb over the back of Chris’s hand. “There’s no timeline, everyone goes at their own pace.”  
  
“It didn’t, um. End very well.”  
  
“What did he do?” Sebastian asks. He recognizes the look on Chris’s face as one of someone who’s been treated badly, and he instantly wants to track the guy down and kick his ass.  
  
“He cheated on me,” Chris says quietly, finally looking back up and meeting Sebastian’s eyes. “A lot, as it turned out. Pretty much the whole time we were together, and it was almost two years. And then he said that’s just how guys are, and he made me feel stupid for being upset.”  
  
“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes. “That’s awful, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Was he right?” Chris asks in a small voice.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m new to this, that’s … not just how relationships with guys are, right?”  
  
“No, God, not at all. I mean, if that’s the arrangement, if it’s open from the start and everybody knows what it is. But if you’re with someone for real and it’s supposed to be monogamous, cheating is unacceptable.”  
  
Chris nods. In truth, Sebastian can’t wrap his head around how a person could do that to anyone they were in a committed relationship with but especially with someone like Chris. He can’t understand being with Chris and not being devoted every waking minute to making him smile and taking care of him and loving him. It’s inconceivable. Chris is the kind of man who could make a person want to change their whole life. He should be worshiped, not betrayed.  
  
Sebastian squeezes Chris’s hand and says as much. “You deserve someone who sees how incredible you are, someone who can’t believe every day how lucky they are to be with you.”  
   
The smile that curves Chris’s lips is small, but it looks real. “Thanks.”  
   
“I mean it. Fuck that guy, he wasn’t good enough for you anyway. If he lived within driving distance I’d egg his house.”  
   
The smile widens, and Sebastian returns it, triumphant at having chased the sadness away, even if it’s only temporary.  
   
Chris insists on paying when their meal is finished, because he’d been the one to ask Sebastian out. He casually says Sebastian can get the next one, and Sebastian has to actively stop himself from yelling excitedly at the prospect of a next one.  
   
“Come up for a bit, if you want,” Sebastian says, as they’re parked outside his building. “For coffee, or a drink, or whatever.”  
   
He doesn’t elaborate on what he means by  _whatever_. He’s letting Chris set their pace. Chris is newer to this, and in a vulnerable place after his last relationship, and Sebastian wants him to be comfortable. Chris does come inside with him, following him up the stairs and into his apartment. Sebastian gives him the tour, and has never realized until just now how pretentious is place must look to someone like Chris; wood and stylish furniture and tidy bookshelves and a record player on display on a mid-century cabinet. His cat comes over to greet them, and Chris kneels down instantly to pet him.  
   
“That’s Riot,” Sebastian tells him, smiling to himself as he watches Chris scratch through the long fur.  
   
“Hello,” Chris says softly. “Aren’t you beautiful. What a great name.”  
   
“I didn’t pick it. Adopted him a few years ago from a shelter, but I liked it, so.”  
   
Chris looks up at him. “Remember when I wasn’t surprised you were a cat person?”  
   
“Yes. I’m still not sure whether I should be insulted by that.”  
   
“Definitely not.” He speaks to Riot again. “How could anyone not love this face.”  
   
“Do you want anything? I have … various alcohols.”  
   
“Just some water, I gotta drive.”  
   
Sebastian nods, and leaves him on the floor petting the cat. He goes to the kitchen, forces himself to breathe and shakes his head to clear it. He’s still determined to let Chris be in control, but having him here, in Sebastian’s space, is making it harder. He wants so much, he’s itching to just reach out and take it. It’s been what feels like a lifetime since he’s been with someone who looks at him the way Chris does – like he’s something important, not just a warm body but something worthy of a lot more. It’s a lot to take in. Chris is a lot to take in.  
   
He finds Chris on the couch when he returns, two glasses of water and ice in his hands. Riot is curled up in Chris’s lap, looking up at him with the same loving expression Sebastian is sure was plastered all over his own face all night. Sebastian sets the glasses on the table, and sits, not right next to Chris but close enough that Chris could make a move if he wanted to.  
   
“He likes you.”  
   
“I’m very likable,” Chris jokes, rubbing under Riot’s chin.  
   
Sebastian means it when he says, “You are.”  
   
Riot jumps down after a few minutes, and Chris brings one leg up to tuck under the other, turning to face Sebastian on the couch. He smiles, his eyes going soft and fond and Sebastian wills his heartbeat to slow so Chris won’t hear it in the quiet room.  
   
“I had fun, tonight.”  
   
“Me too.”  
   
“Did Hayley tell you I blurted out that I had a crush on you?”  
   
Sebastian presses his lips together. “Yes. But only after you’d asked me out, and only because I was dumb enough to not realize it was a date. She felt bad about sharing your secret.”  
   
“Tell her not to. I should’ve asked you out weeks ago.”  
   
Shifting on the couch, Sebastian pretends to be adjusting his position to a more comfortable one, to cover for moving a little closer. The heat from Chris’s body radiates in the space between them even though they aren’t touching, and Sebastian wants to drown in it.  
   
“I saw you, at that staff banquet in August,” Sebastian tells him. “While we’re admitting embarrassing things. All done up in a tux. I liked you before I even knew your name.”  
   
“Really?” Chris looks so flattered by it, and Sebastian could get hooked on putting that look on his face. “I literally had to buy a tuxedo for that. I’ve never needed one before.”  
   
“Wear it to class,” Sebastian suggests. “It looked pretty good on you.”  
   
Laughing, Chris drops his head down, and then looks up at Sebastian through his eyelashes. He reaches out and runs his fingers through Sebastian’s hair lightly, smiling to himself. “Just as soft as I thought.”  
   
Sebastian swallows, and his throat clicks audibly. The contact feels electric. “You thought about it?”  
   
Chris doesn’t answer. His hand moves down to Sebastian’s jaw, such an innocent touch but it has Sebastian’s heart racing. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.  
   
Sebastian nods, probably far too eagerly. Chris leans in slow, and guides Sebastian toward him at the same time. It feels like it happens so slowly, feels like forever before Chris’s lips just barely touch Sebastian’s, and then he pauses again, just for a moment. Just to breathe him in. Sebastian has never been dizzier over a kiss, and it isn’t even a kiss yet. Finally, Chris moves in just that extra millimetre and slides his lips over Sebastian’s, unhurried and soft and life-changing all the same. Sebastian barely chokes back the whimper he almost lets out.   
   
Chris tilts his chin away after such a short time, his forehead bumping against Sebastian’s, and the breath he lets out sounds as overwhelmed as Sebastian feels. Sebastian wants more instantly, he wants everything instantly. He pushes their lips together again, opening his mouth against it and feels the drop in his stomach when Chris does the same, letting him in, letting him taste. Sebastian surges forward, losing his resolve to leave Chris in the driver’s seat, pushing himself to standing without detaching their lips so he can settle back in straddling Chris’s lap and deepening the kiss. Chris pulls him in closer with arms around Sebastian’s waist, strong hands splayed over the small of his back, and the moan that reverberates between them is quiet and desperate and Sebastian is light-headed.  
   
Then, all too soon, Chris puts a hand in the center of Sebastian’s chest to stop him. “Hey, just … wait a second.”  
   
Sebastian blinks through the arousal making his vision blurred around the edges and frowns, thinking suddenly he’s pushing Chris into something he didn’t want, and remembering he hadn’t wanted to force this. “Shit, I’m sorry, I – ”  
   
“No, it’s – not that. I want it.” Chris looks up at him with dark eyes, and he laughs, shaky and dazed. His hands are on Sebastian’s back again, low and warm, and he breathes, “Jesus, you got no idea how much I want it.”  
   
A shiver runs down Sebastian’s spine.  
   
“I just … this feels like it could be something real, right? That’s not just me?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. His thumb moves along Chris’s jaw, through the soft, short hairs. He’s desperate to reassure, to promise he isn’t like the other guy, the one in California who made this gorgeous man feel like he wasn’t good enough. “Not just you. Definitely.”  
   
“We should hold off a bit, then. Shouldn’t do this on the first date.”  
   
“Technically it’s the second,” Sebastian points out, earning a smile from Chris that makes his heart flutter.  
   
Chris leans up to kiss him again, but it’s soft and chaste this time. It means just as much. “I promise there will be a third. And a fifteenth, if you’ll have me that long.”  
   
Sebastian nods, and bites his tongue, because everything that would spill out of his mouth right now if he let his brain take over would be humiliating. He climbs off Chris and lets him up, looking inconspicuously because he can’t resist and taking a dirty thrill at the unmistakable bulge in Chris’s pants. Sebastian’s skin heats even further at the knowledge that  _he_ did that.  
   
At the door, because he’s already strung out for it like a junkie, Sebastian recklessly says, “Hayley’s speaking at a conference on Sunday. Wanna go with me?”  
   
Chris licks his lips, and then he’s back in Sebastian’s personal space, arms around his waist, kissing him breathless. “It’s a date,” he murmurs, and then he’s gone, and Sebastian is left with his hands shaking and his pulse fluttering, feeling drunk even though he isn’t anything close to it after one glass of wine over an hour ago.  
   
Sebastian looks around his empty apartment with his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. He starts toward the living room to take their untouched water glasses to the kitchen, but then he mutters, “Fuck it,” to himself, and goes to the bedroom instead. He strips and flops out on his bed, on top of the blankets, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking, the slide eased by the mess he’d been leaking, a ridiculous amount of it considering all they’d done is kiss. With his eyes closed he remembers Chris’s hands, his lips, how low his voice went when he’d said  _Jesus, you got no idea how much I want it_. He comes so quickly, making a mess of his stomach, the high lasting for longer than it usually does after he’s empty and relaxed back against the pillows. When he falls asleep, it’s with a warm, giddy feeling in his chest. It’s been a long, long time since he’s been this happy.  
   
*           *           *


	7. Chapter 7

As always, Sebastian looks incredible when Chris meets him on Sunday. More casual than he usually is, in faded blue jeans and a navy pea coat with silver buttons and brown leather shoes. He smiles when he sees Chris from across the room, and Chris goes over to him, regretful that this thing between them is still brand new and he can’t kiss Sebastian to say hello like he wishes he could. Their handshake feels forced and too formal, but the sparkle in Sebastian’s eyes says he’s remembering Friday, thinking about being draped in Chris’s lap and kissing him senseless. Chris smiles back, and relishes the excitement of sharing a secret.  
   
He doesn’t fully understand a lot of what Hayley says in her panel, and it’s difficult to concentrate in a too-small folding chair with Sebastian right next to him. Chris thinks he must have moved his chair in a little closer when Chris wasn’t looking, because nobody else in the crowd seems to be pressed against their neighbor. Sebastian’s whole thigh is touching his, and that makes it hard to focus. Hayley is busy after it wraps, talking with the other panelists and with a reporter from the school paper, so Sebastian takes Chris across campus to his office. Chris wasn’t going to suggest they do something else after the conference because he is cognizant of coming off too eager, so he’s happy when Sebastian does.  
   
Chris realizes he’s never been to Sebastian’s office before. The interior is more or less the same as the one Chris is in. Wood panelled walls, a big window, old stone floor. But it’s lacking the ancient furniture that was in Chris’s when he inherited it. Judging by the similarities to the furniture in his apartment, Sebastian picked it all out himself. The desk and the coffee table are oak, that same slanted, 1950s design he seems to be partial to. The couch is dark green velvet, which is unbelievably superfluous for a workspace but it suits him. The shelves are crammed with books, and awards, and framed pictures. Chris looks closer at them, and they’re mostly of Hayley. The two of them in formal wear at some kind of party, at what looks like an archaeological dig, on a beach with their arms around each other. Chris tries not to linger too long on Sebastian’s bare chest in that picture. The photo of them in graduation caps and gowns catches his eye, and he picks it up, looking into their much younger faces. Sebastian is smiling and Hayley is kissing his cheek.  
   
“I love that picture,” Sebastian says, noticing the one Chris is focused on.  
   
“Anthony told me you two went to school together. You look so happy.”  
   
“I was happy, that day. Against all odds.”  
   
Chris looks over at him. “Against what odds?”  
   
Shaking his head, Sebastian says, “Never mind.”  
   
He does mind, but Chris lets it drop. He moves in a little closer, intending to pull Sebastian into a kiss now that they’re alone, but then he stops himself half way there. As much as he wants to just lock the door and devour him, this would only be their second kiss, so Chris doesn’t have the right to kiss without asking. Not yet. Sebastian looks at him, though, and seems to understand what Chris was thinking. He closes the rest of the distance, and his hands go to Chris’s hips. Grinning, Chris takes his face in his hands and Sebastian leans in, bridging the gap between them and pressing his lips to Chris’s. He’s only an inch shorter, and he fits so nicely against Chris. His fingers squeeze, digging into Chris’s sides, and his tongue flicks out and Chris parts his lips to let it in. He kisses Chris until he’s dizzy, steadying himself with his hands on Sebastian’s shoulders, and then Sebastian pulls away just enough for their lips to fall apart, sighing reluctantly about it but realizing, as Chris does, that they can’t do more than this in their current location.  
   
Chris looks down at him, Sebastian’s blue eyes sparkly again, his hair a little messy where Chris was touching it, and his lips shiny and red. He’s stunning. Chris never wants to look at anything else for the rest of his life. He could die happy with the image of that face in his mind. He stops himself from saying so out loud. Sebastian seems pretty clearly to want him back, which in itself is a miracle, but Chris could still ruin it before it even really starts if he lets himself say things it’s far too soon to be saying. Instead, he gets his arms all the way around Sebastian’s broad back and pulls him in. Sebastian’s arms slide around his waist and squeeze, his face fitting into the space where Chris’s neck meets his shoulder.  
   
“Are you okay?” he asks softly; misinterpreting and thinking Chris is in need of comfort.  
   
It’s just the opposite. “Yeah, I’m great. Just realized we haven’t ever hugged. Not a real one, anyway.”  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian smiles, Chris can feel it against his neck. “Are you a hugger?”  
   
“Big time. You okay with that?”  
   
“Yep.” Sebastian steps in just an inch closer.  
   
It should be ridiculous to be standing in an office holding another adult for really no reason at all, but Chris drowns in it. He feels delirious. It’s warm and Sebastian feels so nice against him, hard muscle and soft fabric, his hair tickling Chris’s cheek. It feels so familiar, having Sebastian in his arms, like they’ve been in each other’s lives for years.  
   
“You smell good,” Sebastian says, sounding dreamy about it and voicing what Chris had just been thinking.  
   
“So do you.”  
   
“You remember the first week of classes, when we met? In the teachers’ lounge?”  
   
“Of course I do.”  
   
“I could smell you. You were sitting close to me and … it was distracting.” Sebastian laughs softly, and then sounds embarrassed when he says, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”  
   
It makes Chris’s stomach flip over itself. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about me like that all this time?”  
   
“Shut up,” Sebastian mumbles.  
   
“I have, too, if it helps,” Chris tells him. “Really. Saw you that day, and I just … you were so gorgeous.”  
   
“Were?” Sebastian jokes, but Chris can hear in his voice the words affected him.  
   
“Are.”  
   
“Should’a told me you liked guys sooner.” Sebastian pokes him gently. “I would’ve asked you out on the spot.”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris swallows, and still feels badly about that. “Sorry.”  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian stiffens in Chris’s arms and then he pulls back, finally breaking the hug so he can look up at Chris with worry shining in his eyes. He brings a hand up to run gentle fingertips over Chris’s cheek. “No. Sorry, that … that was a stupid joke. You told me when you were ready. Never do it any sooner than that.”  
   
Chris nods gratefully, and kisses him again. It packs a weightier emotional punch this time, Sebastian kissing back slowly like he’s trying to press reassurance into Chris through his lips. “When can I take you out again?” Chris asks.  
   
“I’m the one takin’ you out this time,” Sebastian reminds him.  
   
“Okay, then. Where are we going?”  
   
Sebastian squints at him, like he’s trying to figure something out. “You seem like the kind of person who’d enjoy driving into the country to look at Autumn leaves.”  
   
“Do I?”  
   
“Yes. You also seem like the kind of person who loves the holidays and gets really excited when the moon is bright.”  
   
“Damn, got me all worked out. Isn’t it a bit early for the leaves?”  
   
“A bit.” Sebastian shrugs. “So, we’ll go twice.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
The week drags. Chris enjoys his classes, especially his seminar on pre-modern religion. They have such a fantastic discussion on Wednesday, voices passionate on all sides and Chris sitting on his desk watching them teach each other with such a big smile on his face like a proud dad. But outside of the classroom, he has trouble paying attention to things. He tries to read, and ends up going over the same sentence six times before realizing it. He just wants it to be Saturday, and by mid-week it’s clear nothing is going to hold his attention until it is, so he more or less quits trying to do anything important and busies himself with household chores and playing with Dodger and long phone conversations with his Mom. He runs into Sebastian in the hallways almost every day, and Sebastian will smile at him or wink at him and Chris finds it affecting him more than it should.   
   
On Thursday, Sebastian loses patience for waiting as well, and texts Chris to meet him in his office. They make out for a half hour on the velvet couch. Chris wants to push Sebastian up against the door and sink to his knees right there, and it’s getting more difficult to keep from snapping and doing it. Sebastian isn’t helping by looking like he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. After, they visit the Starbucks kiosk again, and wander around campus, not heading anywhere in particular, just ambling through the courtyards and chatting. It’s a cloudy afternoon but warm. Chris tells Sebastian about his family, gushing over his nieces and nephews. He talks about the theater troupe he’d been in with Scott, and how close he still is with his brother. Sebastian talks about his Mom and his Step-Dad, and his teenage years as a rich kid on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It sounds like a movie; private school and music lessons and classmates with personal drivers. Sebastian doesn’t sound overly enthused by any of it – like maybe it wasn’t horrible, but he’s happy to be away from that environment. Not that he’s gone too far away, teaching in an Ivy League school. Chris doesn’t mention that.  
   
Sebastian picks him up just after noon on Saturday, and Chris tries desperately not to bound down the walk and leap into the car. Sebastian drives a simple sedan, and Chris was sort of expecting something fancy and expensive but he likes that it isn’t. He leans over and kisses Sebastian’s cheek, and Sebastian chases after his lips to catch them in a full kiss. He smiles when they pull apart, looking genuinely happy to see Chris, and Chris’s heart flutters.  
   
Sebastian reaches between them to the cup holders and hands Chris a paper cup. “Coffee?”  
   
“God, yes, thank you.” He takes a sip as Sebastian pulls the car away from the curb, and groans appreciatively. “You remembered how I take it.”  
   
“Two milk and two sugars,” Sebastian confirms, and then scrunches up his nose. “Disgusting.”  
   
Chris grins and quirks an eyebrow. “I like sweet things.”  
   
“Ew,” Sebastian laughs and complains at the same time. “Don’t use bad pick-up lines, you already got me.”  
   
“Maybe I wanna keep you,” Chris says with a shrug, enjoying the way Sebastian’s expression turns from exasperated to softly contented.  
   
They drive out of town, to a state park about 30 minutes away. Chris was right – late September is too early for fall leaves. A few trees have begun to turn, but most are still green. He doesn’t care. They’ll do this again in November when the colors are at their most impressive. Today, he’s happy enough to just be with Sebastian, talking easily as they drive and enjoying the look of the countryside he’d grown up with. They park by the river and walk. Unlike the other day on campus, Chris takes Sebastian’s hand, and holds it while they stroll by the water.  
   
“Is this … okay?” Sebastian asks, glancing at Chris with his eyes squinted like he’s uncertain.  
   
Chris frowns. “Is what okay?”  
   
Sebastian gestures in front of them. “I don’t date very much. This isn’t cheesy, is it?”  
   
“It’s extremely cheesy, and it’s perfect. I like cheesy.”  
   
Sebastian’s shy smile is so beautiful it leaves Chris momentarily short of breath.   
   
“Why don’t you date very much?” He asks it, and then thinks maybe that’s a rude question.  
   
“I don’t mean I’m … inexperienced. Just that I don’t do things like this very often.”  
   
Chris nods, and can tell there’s more to it than that, but doesn’t want to insist on information he isn’t being offered. The fact that he tends to spill his guts to anyone who smiles at him twice, doesn’t mean everyone is like that. He likes Sebastian’s hand in his, and he won’t let himself ruin this by being too forward.  
   
“Is your family happy to have you back in New England?” Sebastian asks.  
   
“Yes.” Chris smiles. “My Mom would have hugged me for an hour if I’d let her. And my brother found my house, so I wouldn’t have to make trips back and forth from Santa Barbara. He took it so seriously, like he thought if he found the perfect place maybe I’ll stay forever.”  
   
“That’s really nice.” Sebastian smiles. “They sound great.”  
   
“Want to sit?” Chris points at a bench on the path ahead of them.  
   
“Tired already?” Sebastian teases.  
   
Chris puts an arm around him and hugs him sideways. “Maybe I just want an excuse to pretend I’m cold and get all close to you.”  
   
The laugh he gets in return is quiet, happy, so pleasant it has him shivering. He sits with his whole side pressed into Sebastian’s, and resumes holding his hand. Chris likes that a lot. He rubs his thumb over the back of Sebastian’s hand, and the skin is so soft under his fingertips.  
   
“Why did your family leave Romania?”  
   
“Just me and my mom. She was my whole family.” Sebastian looks out at the water ahead of them. “And, uh. Because of the war.”  
   
“Oh.” That had slipped Chris’s mind, or he hadn’t put it together, hadn’t realized the timing. “Right. Ceaușescu and the Revolution and everything. Were you in danger?”  
   
“I think everyone was. Over a thousand people died.”  
   
“Do you miss it? Or, miss what it was like before all that?”  
   
Sebastian licks his lips. “I’m not sure. I remember it, but I remember … our apartment, and the kids in our neighborhood I’d play with, and my school. None of that is specific to where I was, those things would be part of most kids’ memories. I wasn’t really old enough to understand what Communism was, or … that we were suffering.”  
   
“Have you been back, since?”  
   
He shakes his head.  
   
“How come?” Chris asks, and then realizes maybe he’s pushing too hard again. “You don’t have to tell me.”  
   
Sebastian looks down at their hands, and Chris brings them up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of Sebastian’s palms. Sebastian stares into space as he answers, his eyes unfocused toward a spot in the middle of Chris’s chest, like he’s thinking deeply. “I guess … I don’t think things are much better there, than they were when we left. Poverty and corruption and … I guess if I go back, and it isn’t like I remember …”  
   
“Makes sense.” Chris nods, and Sebastian looks at him.  
   
“It was bad, toward the end. Soldiers everywhere, people we knew going missing, like, leaving the house one morning and never coming back. Happened to the father of the family who lived across the hall from us. They used to watch me when my Mom was late getting home from work. They had two teenage daughters, they were nice to me. One day he just didn’t come home. I don’t think they ever knew what happened to him. You couldn’t go to the police. They were just as corrupt as the government.”  
   
“That’s horrible,” Chris says, and it feels so inadequate. He can’t think of a word strong enough.  
   
“I think that’s what made my Mom decide we had to leave. She was all I had, I didn’t … I never knew my father. He left when I was a baby. And I don’t have siblings, so if something happened to her, I would’ve been alone. I would’ve ended up in an orphanage, or … on the streets.”  
   
“You must have been so scared.” Chris wants to pull him in, but he doesn’t.  
   
“I don’t want to remember it like that, you know?” His eyes are so blue in the sunlight, under a deep frown. “If I go back and that kind of thing is still happening, or there are homeless kids everywhere, kids who weren’t as lucky as me, everything good I remember about it might get washed over.”  
   
“I totally get that,” Chris assures. “You lived two pretty different lives, between that, and Manhattan.”  
   
“I didn’t fit in there at all,” Sebastian says, with a laugh that has no humor in it. “All these kids born with silver in their mouths or whatever that expression is. They all came from generational wealth, and I was an immigrant with an accent who was dirt poor until my Step-Dad got lucky. I never belonged in that crowd, I wasn’t one of them and we all knew it.”  
   
“Sounds lonely.” Chris moves his fingers over the back of Sebastian’s hand again.  
   
Sebastian blinks, and then he shakes his head, like he’s only just noticed how long he’d been talking. “Sorry. Fuck, I shouldn’t be dumping all that on you.”  
   
“I asked,” Chris points out. “You’re not dumping anything on me, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”  
   
“I don’t – talk all that much. About real stuff. Sometimes not even with Hayley. But … I don’t know, feels like maybe I could, with you.” Sebastian looks nervous as he admits it, like Chris isn’t the only one stressing about saying things too soon.  
   
Chris leans in and kisses him. “You can tell me anything.”  
   
Sensing Sebastian is uncomfortable with how much he shared, Chris changes the subject to lighter things. He tells Sebastian about Dodger getting his head stuck in the bannister a few days ago, and gets Sebastian laughing. He has such a gorgeous laugh. Bright and sparkly, more giggly than Chris was expecting. His eyes are so nice when he’s happy. Chris could so easily get addicted to making him laugh. The resume walking after a few minutes, and it’s really beautiful here, quiet and peaceful, nothing but the wind in the trees and bird and the lapping of the water on the rocky shoreline. They pass a few other people, a family with small children, an older man slowly walking a small dog, but mostly they’re alone, and Chris relaxes in the sunshine and the lack of noise and just being with Sebastian, getting to know him a little better each time they’re together. There isn’t anything he’s learned so far that he doesn’t like.  
   
He invites Sebastian inside when they get back to Chris’s house, early evening, the sun starting to set. Dodger rushes to the door to greet them, and Sebastian kneels down before he even takes his shoes off to say hello. Dodger yaps excitedly and licks his face.  
   
“Oh, that’s nice,” Sebastian jokes, petting Dodger’s head. “Thank you so much, I was just thinking to myself I really wanted dog slobber all over my cheek.”  
   
“French kissing the first time you meet, Dodger you’re too easy. No one will respect you,” Chris tells him, allowing his dog to jump all over Sebastian for just another few seconds because it’s cute, and then hauling him off by the collar. “Okay, jeez, relax bud.”  
   
Sebastian smiles, and he really does have dog slobber all over his face. Chris gets him a paper towel.  
   
“Sorry,” he grins. “I’d tell you to take it as a compliment, but he likes basically everyone.”  
   
Sebastian takes the towel and wipes his cheek. “Good to know I’m just a notch on a bedpost.”  
   
He unbuttons his coat and slips it off, and Chris takes it from him to hang up. Underneath is a red and blue plaid shirt. It’s more dressed down than Chris has ever seen him, and he likes it.  
   
“Tell your brother he did a good job with the house hunting. This place is great.”  
   
“Yeah, I like it so far. It’s a bit bare, I lived in a much smaller place in California so I don’t have enough furniture to fill all these rooms. Haven’t been shopping yet.”  
   
“Let me know if you want company when you go.”  
   
“I will. Are you hungry?” Chris asks. “We could order something.”  
   
“I am, actually. And I owe you dinner.”  
   
“You don’t, but if you’re offering to pay for it I’m not gonna turn that down.”  
   
He orders a pizza and then heads to the kitchen to make a salad. Sebastian sits at the island and talks to him, not about anything important, just idle chatter that feels familiar and comfortable. They have such an easy rapport already, as if they’ve known each other for a lot longer than they have. Chris doesn’t always find that so simple, when he meets new people. He’s good at faking it. He’s good at being loud and funny and outgoing, and he can talk to anyone, but he always feels it, when it isn’t relaxed like this. He can always tell the difference, between a conversation that feels like work, and one that doesn’t. Sebastian has a calming presence to him, and Chris tends to spin out of control, even in good moments. He gets too wrapped up in anxiety, too worried he might be annoying or boring or that the person he’s with isn’t enjoying themselves, and then he gets  _too_ loud and just makes it worse. He likes being around people who calm him down, keep him grounded.  
   
They eat at the island, Dodger hovering around Chris’s legs, hoping for crumbs to fall that he can lick up. Chris tries not to watch Sebastian too closely, but there’s something so informal about him like this; plaid shirt and jeans, sleeves rolled up, eating pizza in Chris’s kitchen. He doesn’t seem like a world renowned academic in this moment, he just seems like a person, like a guy Chris might meet at a baseball game or in a hardware store. Chris decides he likes both versions. He likes Sebastian all put together and stylish, but he likes this too. Maybe even a little bit more. This Sebastian seems unassuming, more comfortable, less like he’s trying to impress anyone. Like he feels secure enough to just exist, and not put on a show. Chris himself knows that struggle.  
   
Sebastian sees him staring, and smiles. “Do I have pizza sauce on my face?”  
   
Chris smiles back. “No. I just like looking at you.”  
   
“Could I ask you something?” Sebastian asks, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing his mouthful.  
   
“Of course.” Chris picks a piece of pepperoni off his slice and gives it to Dodger.  
   
“What, um.” Sebastian scratches his wrist and looks unsure. “What are you wanting us to be?”  
   
Chris doesn’t understand the question at first, and then when he does, he isn’t sure how to answer it without sounding crazy. He’s in deep this time, and disconcertingly fast, even for him. It’s only been a few weeks. Even for Chris, who has a long, messy history of falling too fast for people who didn’t treat him well in the end, this is quick. He thinks about Sebastian all the time. He wants them to spend every minute together, to know all Sebastian’s secrets, to be the one making him laugh, holding him when he’s sad, cheering him on when he achieves something in his career. He also doesn’t want to send this man running for the hills by spilling all of that on him, on their fourth date.  
   
Giving up on waiting for him to answer, Sebastian quietly says, “I kissed someone, at a bar, after we went for coffee the other week. Because I liked you, and I thought you didn’t feel the same way, and I was trying to get you out of my head. I regretted it right away.”  
   
Chris looks up at him. He looks like he feels so guilty about it. “It was my fault you didn’t know. I was too chicken to say what I wanted. I kept hoping you’d just figure it out, but that wasn’t fair.”  
   
“You deserve a lot better than the way your last boyfriend treated you.”  
   
“This isn’t the same as that. I’m not upset, honestly. We weren’t anything, then. You had every right to kiss someone.” He is upset, but with himself for taking so long, not with Sebastian.  
   
“I still wish I hadn’t. But that’s why I’m asking. What you want us to be.”  
   
Chris pushes his empty plate forward and scoots his chair a little closer so he can get his arm around Sebastian. He kisses his cheek and then leaves his face resting there. “Tell me what you meant, earlier, about not going on dates very much?”  
   
There was something sad behind Sebastian’s eyes when he’d said it, and Chris doesn’t believe he’d been given anything close to the whole story.  
   
“It’s not like I never have. I’ve been in relationships, too. A few of them. Not for a while, though. It’s just … easier. To keep things casual. Nobody gets hurt when it ends.”  
   
Chris nods, and still isn’t getting the whole story, but for now he doesn’t push. Maybe it’s early in the relationship for that too; to be demanding painful secrets. “I’m not really good at casual. Is that gonna be a problem?”  
   
“No.” Sebastian shakes his head and turns it to look at Chris. “I don’t want casual, with you. Sorry if it’s too fast to say things like that …”  
   
“Maybe for someone else it would be, but not for me.”  
   
“So, you want …”  
   
He’s grasping at straws, trying not to say things that Chris won’t want to hear, trying not to force anything on him, and it’s so sweet Chris has to kiss him again, on the lips this time. Sebastian doesn’t seem to be able to say it, so Chris takes this one. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you. Haven’t been able to think about anyone else since the first moment I saw you. I want you to be my boyfriend. If that’s what you want.”  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian breathes, sounding relieved. “It is.”  
   
Chris kisses him a little deeper, and he tastes like tomato sauce. “Good.”  
   
*           *           *


	8. Chapter 8

“How were the leaves?” Hayley asks, setting a tray with a steaming teapot and cups down on the coffee table before joining him on her couch. She lifts the pot, swirls it around twice, and then pours. Milk in hers, half a teaspoon of sugar in Sebastian’s. She stirs both with the same spoon, which she then licks and sets down on the tray.  
   
“Still green.” Sebastian accepts the cup she hands him and blows on it.   
   
“Got a bit ahead of yourself, did you? Dreamt about kissing him surrounded in red and orange like a postcard, and forgot that it’s only September?”  
   
“Something like that.” Sebastian doesn’t want to give her the complete satisfaction of knowing how right she is.  
   
She hums, and sips her tea. “That’s quite sweet, actually.”  
   
“It was still fun. I told about Romania.”  
   
One perfect eyebrow arches. “You’ve reached the telling-him-things stage?”  
   
“He asked about it and it kind of all tumbled out. He’s dangerous, Hales. He’s got this understanding smile. Makes you want to tell him all your secrets.”  
   
“What else did you tell him?”  
   
“Nothing. But I wanted to.”  
   
“Just … make sure you can trust him, before you go telling him everything.”  
   
“I thought you liked him.”  
   
“Darling, I do. I like him very much.” She sets her cup down, and taps two fingers to the center of his chest, over his heart. “But this is more fragile than you’re willing to admit. Don’t give him the power to break it before you know for sure he won’t.”  
   
Sebastian sighs, and looks away. Sometimes, she knows too much. He puts his cup down as well, after another generous sip, and leans back against the cushions. “He wouldn’t. Even if he was breaking up with me, he’d still be nice about it. He’s just that kind of person.”  
   
Hayley mirrors him, reclining with her head tipped close to his. Perhaps sensing the conversation is headed down a path Sebastian doesn’t want to follow, she quips, “How is he in the sack? All those muscles, those big hands …”  
   
“We haven’t, yet,” Sebastian admits, and it brings a smile to his face to say that. It’s uncharacteristic for him, and in an odd way he’s pleased about it. “Just kissed a few times.”  
   
“It’s been nearly three weeks!”  
   
“I know.”  
   
“Are you ill?” she asks, putting her hand to his forehead, checking for a fever.  
   
“Shut up.” Sebastian grins and turns into her, resting his head on her shoulder. “He’s … romantic.”  
   
She shifts, and her arms go around him so he can properly rest his face against her neck. Her perfume smells like flowers. “Happiness looks really nice on you.”  
   
The back door opens and closes, and a minute later Anthony enters the room, sweaty from a run. Sebastian looks up at him and smiles in greeting.  
   
“Should I be jealous?” Anthony jokes, before leaning down to kiss Hayley.  
   
“He has a gorgeous new boyfriend,” Hayley reminds him. “And I have the most handsome husband in the entire world.”  
   
“Yeah, yeah.” Anthony smiles anyway, and goes into the bedroom, returning a moment later in a different shirt. He steals Hayley’s teacup and sits in the chair across from them. “Gossiping about the new guy?”  
   
“Seb was just telling me – ”  
   
Sebastian pokes her and cuts her off. “You keep to yourself what I was just telling you. Can’t a guy have some secrets with his best friend?”  
   
Anthony puts an exaggerated wounded expression on his face. “Okay, but, Evans is  _my_ new best friend, so you better not fuck it up.”  
   
“I’ll do my best. For you,” Sebastian tells him.  
   
“Thank you,” Anthony answers with a pleased smile, and then sips tea with his pinky up.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“Where are we going tonight?” Sebastian asks, managing to get the words out around Chris’s tongue in his mouth. Chris is plastered to him on the couch in his office, his hands everywhere and his intoxicating scent strong in Sebastian’s nose. They need to stop doing this, here, or Sebastian is going to develop a Pavlovian response to this space and pop half an erection every time he walks into his own office. He’s also aware that old plaster walls are thin, and there is a colleague on either side, and sometimes Chris isn’t so quiet. In a better time and place, Sebastian is going to have some fun with that particular trait. He’s dying to get his hands and his mouth on places other than Chris’s lips and jaw; to peel his clothes off, revealing all that bulk that he’s so far only felt underneath fabric, to take Chris apart with his tongue, pulling all those delicious sounds out of him. He’s only been give a taste of it, a tiny appetizer, when Chris moans low in his throat as Sebastian kisses him. Sebastian bets he could get it a whole lot louder.  
   
“Italian place,” Chris answers. His fingers tug at Sebastian’s shirt, getting it nearly out from it’s tucked position before Sebastian realizes what he’s doing.  
   
“Hey, easy, big guy,” he says, extraordinarily reluctant about having to stop him. There is nothing he’d like more right now than to let Chris undress him. “I have to teach a class in 15 minutes.”  
   
“Right.” Chris exhales, and then laughs and tucks Sebastian’s shirt back in. His fingers are so warm, dipping just under Sebastian’s belt, and nervous excitement for all sorts of things to come stirs in Sebastian’s gut. “Sorry. Didn’t even notice I was doing that.”  
   
“Subconsciously trying to get me naked,” Sebastian jokes, but then his stomach flips again when Chris’s eyes darken.  
   
“Guess so,” he says, and he has no right to make two innocent words sound that erotic.  
   
“Maybe … later?” Sebastian asks, trying both not to sound like he’s pushing for it, and not to sound like the anticipation of even a maybe has his heart racing so fast it might burst right out of his chest. They haven’t talked about it again, since the first night. Sebastian hasn’t wanted to make Chris feel like he’s being rushed. If he’s a take-things-slow kind of person, Sebastian is more than willing to take things slow. It’s also been a really, really long time since anyone has treated Sebastian like he’s worth waiting for. He can’t deny that he likes the way that feels in his chest.  
   
“Yeah,” Chris breathes, and then kisses Sebastian again like he can’t help it, but slower this time. Sebastian feels it to his ankles.  
   
“We should probably stop,” he says into Chris’s lips, wishing they didn’t have to.  
   
“So stop,” Chris returns, and Sebastian swears and can’t. Just another minute, just a few more swipes of that talented tongue, and few more heartbeats with Chris’s hands on his waist.  
   
“Okay, okay, we have to,” Sebastian groans, and does push Chris an inch away. “I can’t stand in front of a classroom with … well. Like this.”  
   
“You’d be written up for sexual harassment,” Chris agrees, grinning at him with a gorgeous blush on his cheeks.  
   
Sebastian has to touch, has to feel that heated skin in his hand, and he finds himself gazing into clear blue eyes for another moment until he catches himself leaning in for another kiss. “Fuck. You’re a bad influence.”  
   
“I didn’t say anything!” Chris laughs.  
   
“I know but your face is cute and I wanna kiss it. Get very far away from me.”  
   
Still laughing, Chris untangles himself and slides over to the other side of the couch so they aren’t touching anymore. “Okay, fine, I’m leaving. Just … give me a minute. I can’t walk down the hall like  _this_ either.”  
   
Sebastian pointedly doesn’t look. He breathes to calm himself down, and Chris gets up after a few moments. He leans over to kiss Sebastian’s lips, a quick peck to say goodbye, says, “I’ll pick you up at seven,” and he’s gone, and Sebastian is left to gather his notes and his thoughts and stumble off to class with very workplace inappropriate thoughts still in his head.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris’s voice over the intercom has Sebastian’s hands shaking. He waits by the door, until he hears footsteps outside, and opens it before Chris knocks. He’s in a suit. His hair is pushed back, one strand of it falling down into his eyes, framed by dark-rimmed glasses. There is a small bouquet of salmon-pink roses in his hand, wrapped in brown paper.  
   
“Are you kidding?” Sebastian asks flatly.  
   
“I’m not allowed to romance you?” Chris steps inside and kisses Sebastian as soon as the door is closed. “Hi. You look gorgeous.”  
   
“You’re too much,” Sebastian tells him, but takes the flowers anyway when Chris hands them over.   
   
“I saw them at the grocery store, stopped on my way home,” Chris says with a shrug, following Sebastian into the kitchen so he can put them in water. “It wasn’t my plan all along. Just walked by and thought they were pretty.”  
   
“They are, thank you. You look gorgeous too, by the way.”  
   
Sebastian clips the ends off the stems, and reaches to the cupboard above the sink for a vase.  
   
“See?” Chris says behind him, sounding smug.  
   
“See what?”  
   
“You’re pretending to be all aghast at getting flowers but you have a thing to put them in. I don’t even own one of those. I knew you were the kind of person who likes flowers. Knew it without even knowing it.”  
   
“I’ll present you with a medal just as soon as I can get one engraved.”  
   
He fills the glass vase with water, and puts the roses in it, arranging them and then placing it on the counter. He turns, and finds Chris watching him, still smiling.  
   
“Yes, okay, I like flowers,” Sebastian cries exasperatedly. “Get over here and kiss me before you pull a muscle gloating about it.”  
   
Chris laughs, and crowds into Sebastian’s space, kissing him until he can’t breathe. Sebastian pushes his hands under Chris’s suit jacket, pressing them against his back, warmth seeping through the thin shirt. Chris presses him into the counter, and it’s heated and desperate so quickly it makes Sebastian’s head spin, as if their momentum from earlier in his office hadn’t been interrupted, just paused. Chris’s scent is back in his nose, soap and nice cologne, and his tongue is back in Sebastian’s mouth. His hands mess up Sebastian’s hair. He’s noticed a pattern, with that. Chris’s fingers go to his hair whenever he gets the opportunity. Sebastian isn’t even sure he knows he’s doing it.   
   
He’s aroused so quick it’s dizzying, and Chris is too; he can feel it when Chris rolls his hips forward and lets out a soft moan at the contact, gentle friction, excitement and anticipation. The moment feels different than all the others. It feels weighted, more important, more like it’s really leading somewhere this time. He pulls back to gasp for air, and Chris drops his head down to kiss Sebastian’s neck. His lips suck and his tongue soothes the sting and Sebastian hears himself whimper.  
   
“Chris,” he whispers urgently. “Chris.”  
   
“Sorry,” Chris mutters. “Too fast?”  
   
“No, it’s …” All Sebastian wants is to keep kissing him, to drag him by his tie to the bedroom and shove him down onto the bed, climb over him and test his theories about where he thinks Chris’s sensitive spots are. What he says instead, is, “are we going to dinner?”  
   
“Oh. Yeah.” Chris rubs his hands over his face. “Definitely.”  
   
“We don’t have to,” Sebastian tells him, staring at him, his skin prickling in the heat crackling between them. He doesn’t want to be too forward, to push too hard, but he  _wants_  this man, like he’s never wanted anyone before. He’s almost sick over it, a jumble of nerves and desires and shaking hands that itch to touch. He’s feverish and there’s longing in his chest, hot and insistent. The way Chris is looking at him, it isn’t difficult to discern he’s feeling something similar. His eyes are glassy, his pupils so dilated they’ve almost overtaken all the blue. His lips are parted as his gaze flicks down to Sebastian’s mouth, and then back up to his eyes.  
   
When he moves back in it’s slow, and he takes his glasses off and sets them on the counter beside Sebastian, so he can takes his face in his hands and kiss him, unhurried and languid and life-changing. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Let’s stay in.”  
   
Sebastian should be wholly embarrassed by the noise he makes, but it just seems to spur Chris on. The kiss deepens, and Sebastian holds onto him; feels like his knees might give out and send him sliding to the floor if he doesn’t. “Do you wanna … bedroom?”  
   
“Yeah,” Chris rasps.  
   
He plasters himself to Sebastian’s back as Sebastian leads the way, kissing his neck again, and Sebastian wants to laugh, and maybe yell, or maybe cry. A bunch of emotions tangle up in his head and he’s delirious, surprised he doesn’t forget the way to his own bedroom with Chris on him like that. He turns in Chris’s arms as soon as the door is shut behind them, reattaching his lips to Chris’s mouth and sweeping his tongue inside, tasting, desperate for more. Chris takes his jacket off without breaking the kiss, letting it fall to the floor where it will wrinkle, but the thought doesn’t seem to cross his mind. He’s so warm, and he’s everywhere, in Sebastian’s nose and under his skin and in his chemical-soaked brain. The thought of getting his hands on all that warm skin makes him light-headed, the thought of getting his mouth on it has blood rushing other places.  
   
“Off,” Chris says, tugging at the hem of Sebastian’s sweater, and Sebastian breaks the kiss long enough to tug it over his head. Chris is unbuttoning his shirt and Sebastian helps him, nearly choking on his own tongue when the silky fabric moves away to reveal words written in black ink on his collarbone. There are more, as Sebastian’s eyes move down his chest. One over his ribcage, one on his right bicep, and one on each shoulder. He reaches out and touches the first one he saw, small letters in three tilted lines, poetic words that don’t mean anything to Sebastian, but he likes them all the same.  
   
“Wasn’t … expecting tattoos,” he says honestly, embarrassed at the way his voice quivers. Even if he had been expecting them, he wouldn’t have known how hot he’d find it.  
   
“I’m a bit addicted to them. Always wanting more.” Chris shrugs, smiling sheepishly, and then his eyes rake down Sebastian’s chest and his expression changes. He touches too, gentle fingertips moving over Sebastian’s exposed skin, taking him in. He licks his lips and his eyes find their way back to Sebastian’s.  
   
Being wanted, desired so obviously, makes Sebastian’s mouth go dry. He backs up towards the bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress, pulling Chris with him, and sits, looking up as Chris bends over and kisses him, open-mouthed and warm and thorough like he’s going for the Olympic gold in making Sebastian’s head spin. He reaches blindly out in front of him, finding Chris’s belt and undoing it. Then a teeny voice nags at him in the back of his mind, making him worry he pushed Chris into this, so he checks again, just to be sure.  
   
“Hey, you … I’m not complaining about your hands on me. But we don’t have to do anything. I know you wanted to wait.”  
   
“I wanna put my hands on you every single time I see you,” Chris tells him, in a low voice that makes Sebastian’s dick throb where it’s trapped in his pants. “I’ve waited long enough. You?”  
   
Sebastian nods. “Yeah, fuck yeah.”  
   
Chris grins and kisses him again, and helps Sebastian get his belt off. He pushes his own pants down his legs and steps out of them, and then he climbs onto the bed and flops down on his side, head propped up on his hand. Sebastian takes a moment to look, long lines of hard muscle, pale skin smattered with dark hair, tight black boxer briefs that do nothing whatsoever to hide the erection that looks big and thick and Sebastian’s mouth waters. He wants so many things.  
   
“Your turn,” Chris tells him, seeing Sebastian looking and blushing a little.  
   
Sebastian stands and gets his pants off as well, and then figures it will be easier to get the awkward bit over with all at once, like ripping off a Band-Aid, so he shucks his underwear too. He cringes a little when Chris stares, and it’s new for him to feel like that. Sebastian has never had a problem with his body. He takes good care of himself, he isn’t unattractive. He just wants Chris to like him so much, to  _want_ him the way he wants Chris.  
   
“Jesus,” Chris breathes, looking dazed.  
   
“Alright, quit staring,” Sebastian mutters, feeling embarrassment creep up in his chest and explode over his cheeks in a blush.  
   
“No, God,” Chris groans, pushing himself up to his knees and walking over on them to the edge of the bed, pulling Sebastian in by his hips and staring down at him with an awed expression on his face. He looks back up, and brushes Sebastian’s hair back.  
   
Sebastian drapes his arms over Chris’s shoulders.  
   
“Knew you’d be beautiful,” Chris murmurs, kissing the corner of Sebastian’s mouth. “Just knew it. Head to toe, just … a fucking work of art.”  
   
Sebastian’s cheeks get warmer under the praise like it’s a heat lamp. “You too.”  
   
The smile Chris gives him is so soft and sweet, Sebastian kisses him for what must be the fiftieth time today, moving in a little closer so his cock bumps Chris’s hip. He reacts to even that little bit of contact, keyed up and nervous and excited and definitely going to make an idiot of himself when he comes far too quickly.  
   
“What d’you … wanna do?” he asks between kisses, still wanting Chris to set their pace.  
   
“Maybe not everything? This time?” Chris asks, like he’s sorry about it, or ashamed of it, and that hurts Sebastian’s heart so much he physically feels it.  
   
“Of course. Whatever you want.” When Chris doesn’t say anything else, Sebastian cups his cheek and makes their eyes meet; makes Chris look at him. “I mean it.”  
   
Chris nods. “Thank you.”  
   
“Don’t thank me, are you crazy? Any bit of yourself you want to give me is more than I could ask for.”  
   
“You should write Hallmark cards,” Chris jokes, as a cover for the way it affects him, but his voice is thick and that gives him away.  
   
“I meant that too.” Sebastian senses the hesitancy. A few moments ago Chris had been sure and seductive, kissing Sebastian like he was trying to suck the life out of him, soft chuckles and dark, heavy lidded eyes. Now that they’re actually in the moment, he seems tentative, so Sebastian takes the lead from him. He pats Chris’s hip. “Lie back.”  
   
Chris does, looking grateful to have someone else take the reigns. He’s so stunning it feels like looking into the sun, long legs and such nice skin and muscles that move with him, flexing as he shifts his position and gets his head on the pillows. Sebastian crawls over him, dipping down to kiss him, and Chris’s hands go to his ribcage, curling around his sides, Sebastian fitting like he’s small in those big palms. He moves his lips to Chris’s neck, kissing along his collarbone until he finds the tattoo and licking over that.  
   
“You gotta tell me what these all mean sometime.”  
   
“They’re mostly for my family. That one’s a Buddhist saying I liked. I get anxiety sometimes, it … those words calm me down.”  
   
It tugs at Sebastian’s heartstrings to imagine him worried and stuck in his head, and staring in the mirror at words on his chest in an attempt to find peace. He wants to offer to help, the next time Chris gets like that, but doesn’t know if he should, so instead he kisses his way to the other one, the cursive over his ribcage. These words look like a memorial, so Sebastian doesn’t ask. He will another time. Chris’s breath is coming in shallow pants, his stomach moving under Sebastian’s tongue as he gets lower. He balances on one hand and reaches down, finds Chris’s cock against his abdomen, still in his boxers, and palms it through the material. Chris hisses, so responsive, and Sebastian’s stomach drops another foot.  
   
He hooks a thumb under the elastic waistband, but then wants to make sure. “Can I?” he asks, looking up, and Chris has pushed up to his elbows so he can watch.  
   
His hair is a mess and his lips are pink and shiny and he’s so beautiful Sebastian wants to eat him alive. He nods, and lifts his hips so Sebastian can get his boxers off. He drags his nose up the underside of Chris’s cock where it’s laying against his stomach, thick and flushed dark red and just as gorgeous as Sebastian knew it would be. He retraces the pattern with his tongue and then takes the head into his mouth, and was right about the kinds of noises Chris would make. Soft sighs and long, drawn out moans and low hums, his left hand back in Sebastian’s hair, holding on as he drags his lips over the heated flesh. Sebastian knows he’s got some skill in this department but he pulls out all the stops, already so addicted to the taste and the heat and the way Chris moans above him. He swirls his tongue around, letting saliva run down to ease the slide of his hand as he stokes the bottom half, and then sucking at the tip to coax out a drop of precome that tastes like salt and Chris. He hears himself moaning, and hears it echoed from above his head; that made Chris feel good so Sebastian does it again.  
   
Too soon, Chris is tugging at his hair, like a silent warning because his lips don’t work, and Sebastian pulls off to look at him. Chris is panting and his cheeks are red, the flush going all the way down his chest. Sebastian knows what he must look like, with spit on his chin and his eyes unfocused, but if Chris could talk, he looks like he’d be saying the nicest, most loving things about Sebastian’s current appearance.  
   
“Want you to come, okay?” Sebastian tells him, his voice hoarse from his throat being used. He strokes Chris slowly with his hand, licking at the slit and maintaining eye contact. “In my mouth, if you want. I don’t mind, I … like it.”  
   
“Fuck, Sebastian,” Chris sighs, and Sebastian throbs between his legs again at the sound of his name uttered like it’s a dirty word and a reverent prayer all at once.  
   
He closes his lips around Chris again, swallowing around him and moving his hand quicker, straining to look up at him because he wants to see it, see the moment Chris loses it, see it play out over his face. Chris’s eyes fall closed and his mouth falls open, and his eyebrows come together as the first spirt of it hits the back of Sebastian’s throat. He’s silent at first, lips parted on a moan that makes no noise, and then it cascades into a soft grunt and a harshly muttered curse, and then he’s boneless on the mattress as Sebastian swallows it down and licks him gently through the aftershocks.  
   
Chris stops him after a minute, pushing lightly at his head, mumbling, “too much.”  
   
“Sorry,” Sebastian whispers. He kisses Chris’s left hip, and then his right one, and crawls back over him, kissing the bridge of Chris’s nose and then settling in beside him, rubbing circles on his stomach. Chris looks at him, bleary-eyed and pink-cheeked, and Sebastian could write sonnets about how beautiful he is. Wordlessly, Chris brings a hand to his cheek and guides their lips together again, moaning at the taste of himself in Sebastian’s mouth.  
   
“You’re. Um. Good. At that,” Chris says, stumbling over the words.  
   
“Thanks, Shakespeare,” Sebastian jokes.  
   
Chris laughs and drops his head down to Sebastian’s chest. “Be nice to me. You sucked all the better words out.”  
   
Sebastian laughs too, and really could get very used to Chris sated and pliant and stupid in his arms. Chris relaxes there for a few minutes, and then he pushes Sebastian back and returns the favor, lying between Sebastian’s legs and getting Sebastian off with his lips and his tongue until Sebastian is crying out embarrassingly loud, sucker-punched by the strength of the orgasm Chris pulls out of him. They kiss lazily, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and then they order another pizza and eat it naked in bed, and then make each other come again with their hands this time, kissing until Sebastian loses the feeling in his lips. He drifts off to sleep hours later with his head on Chris’s chest and Chris’s fingers back in his hair.  
   
When he wakes in the morning, with sunbeams laying diagonally across the bed and in his eyes, he’s alone. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and reaches for his phone on the night stand, but it isn’t there, and then Sebastian remembers it’s in the kitchen, where he’d left it after calling to order the pizza. The room is quiet around him, and Sebastian looks at the ceiling and heaves a deep sigh. He shouldn’t be surprised. He isn’t, really. He expected this, because he always expects this. There was just a small, hopeful part of him, deep down where he’d been hiding it, that thought, maybe this time would be something else. It isn’t as big of a deal as he feels like making it. He knows Chris didn’t wait three weeks just to trick him into a blowjob and then dump him the next day. That would be the longest, most pointless con in the history of cons. He just would have liked Chris to still be here, in the morning. No one ever stays.  
   
Sebastian gets up, and goes into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. He digs in his drawers, finds a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He opens his bedroom door, expecting to find Riot on the other side of it, indignant at being locked out of the room all night when usually he sleeps at the foot of Sebastian’s bed. His cat isn’t there, and then Sebastian hears a quiet voice from down the hall. He frowns, and glances back into his room. The suit Chris had been wearing is folded and draped over the chair in the corner, where Sebastian had left a pair of sweatpants yesterday.  
   
He follows the noise to the kitchen, and finds Chris shirtless, in the sweats Sebastian thought were on the chair under his suit. They’re a little too small on him. He’s got coffee brewing and eggs frying in a pan on the stove, and Riot is up on the counter.  
   
“I don’t know if your Dad lets you up here,” Chris is saying softly to the cat, scratching the top of his head. “But we just won’t tell him.”  
   
“Hey,” Sebastian says to him, his morning voice scratchy.  
   
Chris turns, and smiles that big, bright, ear-to-ear smile. “Uh oh. Busted letting your cat break the rules.”  
   
“Yeah, you are. Riot, get down.”  
   
He listens to the command, jumping to the kitchen floor and coming over to rub himself against Sebastian’s legs.  
   
“Morning,” Chris says to him.   
   
“Are those my pants?”  
   
“Oh, yeah. I hope you don’t mind.” The smile turns to a guilty grimace. “They were on a chair, I wasn’t rummaging through your closet or anything.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”   
   
Chris nods, and then his forehead wrinkles into a small frown. “Are you okay?”  
   
Sebastian can’t answer. He knows he’s staring, but he can’t help it. Instead he walks over, quick, measured strides that get him in Chris’s space in only a few seconds. He grabs Chris and kisses him, careful not to push him back into the hot stove but not careful about anything else.   
   
Chris’s laugh is gentle and fond, and his smile goes back to bright and glittery. “What was that for?”  
   
“Just wanted to,” Sebastian says, because he can’t speak the truth out loud. He can’t say in words that he thought Chris had left, and that seeing him in the kitchen in Sebastian’s clothes, making him breakfast, being sweet with Riot, that it all wrapped tight around Sebastian’s heart and squeezed hard enough to hurt. He can’t say that he’s suddenly imagining a lifetime of mornings just like this one. He can’t say that this feels like a Disney movie, or a dream that’s too wonderful to be real, that Sebastian will wake up from any minute and then spend the rest of his life missing.  
   
He can’t say all that yet, so he kisses instead. It’s nearly painful to stop, when Chris laughs and says the eggs will burn and moves Sebastian off him. Sebastian wants to hug him from behind, wrap his arms around Chris’s waist and stand there with him while he cooks. He doesn’t, but he wants to.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian is grading essays from his third year class late on Monday evening when the rumble of thunder outside begins. It starts off quiet, but the storm rolls in quickly, and soon there is rain splattering against the window and the flash of lightening outside illuminating the room every few seconds. It’s the beginning of October. It’s way too late in the season for thunderstorms. He’d thought he was past this for another year. He thought the snow would fly soon, and he’d get to spend a blissful five months without rainstorms to disrupt his grip on reality and send him tail-spinning back into nightmares. Snowstorms don’t do it, it’s only rain. And especially thunder. Most times, Sebastian can handle it. He doesn’t like it, but he can grit his teeth and hang on until it passes. Now and then, it hits him harder, and maybe because he wasn’t expecting it, this is one of those times. Thunder crashes above him, like someone banging metal garbage can lids together or driving a sledge hammer into a brick wall.  
   
He fumbles for the blinds, nearly ripping them from the wall in his haste to close them and block the view. It doesn’t help. Lightening still lights the room as it flashes. His hands shake, and he sits and waits for it to pass, hoping it’s just a burst. Twenty minutes later, he’s panicked. He can’t go outside to his car, can’t be out in this with it coming down on his head, so he can’t go home. It could carry on all night, it could continue into the morning. Sebastian is trapped in his office if he can’t get to his car. He considers calling Hayley. She’d understand, she’d come get him. She'd pull her car up somewhere that he could get in without getting wet, and she’d hold his hand and drive him home and maybe stay with him, maybe lie with him in his bed until the rain slows and the electricity fades away. His hand is on his phone three times, about to hit her name in his contacts. He puts it back down every time, and after the third, he throws his phone across the room. It hits the wall and shatters, and he barely notices.  
   
Digging through his bag and his desk drawers, looking for something,  _anything_ , to numb him. He only comes up with Advil. He takes six of them, and it doesn’t do a thing, because of course it doesn’t. Just adds another scar to his liver, probably. He gives up, gives in, curls up on his couch with his jacket over him as a blanket, squeezes his eyes shut, and waits, for hours, for the storm to rage itself out.  
   
*           *           *


	9. Chapter 9

“It’s about … it’s like your mic drop moment,” Chris says. He underlines the first sentence of the conclusion in the essay draft he’s reading over, and pushes the pages back towards Caleb on the desk. “This line is good. The rest of it – it’s not bad, it’s just a little tentative. Passive language, like you aren’t sure about it.”  
   
“‘Cause I’m not.” He looks frustrated.  
   
“That’s okay. Fake it. Because you  _do_ know it, your arguments in the body of the essay are good, honestly. You’ve got this more than you think you do, fake it like you think you’re Jay Z, and it’ll come out better than you expect.”  
   
Caleb raises an eyebrow. “You know who Jay Z is?”  
   
“How old do you think I am?” Chris asks with a laugh. “He was making music when  _I_ was in college.”  
   
Looking back down at his essay draft, Caleb’s face folds back into a frown. “So, I’m not supposed to bring up new shit, right? Like a debate rebuttal or whatever?”  
   
“That’s not a hard rule, but generally, yeah, don’t introduce a bunch of stuff you haven’t already talked about. A good conclusion tells us what you’ve already told us, but more succinctly, and then tells us why we should care. That’s the important part. It’s … this is what I’ve said, and here’s why you should give a shit about it.”  
   
Caleb nods. “Okay. That makes sense.”  
   
“Write like you’re confident about it. Even if you aren’t. A good argument is usually more about the way you say it, than what you’re actually saying. Especially in school, when you’re not going to be passionate about everything you have to write about.”  
   
“Yeah. Okay.” Another nod, a glimmer of confidence on his face, and Chris smiles.  
   
“Email me your second draft, if you want. We’ll get it where it needs to be.”  
   
“Thanks.” Caleb looks at him strangely; smiling, but unsure. “You probably didn’t have to do this. Other profs don’t.”  
   
Chris shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”  
   
A third nod of his head, and then he gets up, and gathers his papers, shoving them into his backpack. He heads for the door, and Chris’s eyes follow him there, to find Sebastian standing in the doorway.  
   
“Oh, sorry,” he says, noticing Caleb. “I can come back.”  
   
“I was just leaving,” Caleb says. “Hey, Professor Stan.”  
   
“Mr. Jones,” Sebastian greets him, formally as if he’s a colleague.  
   
“Dope shirt,” Caleb comments, referring to the floral print Sebastian is in. He holds a fist out. “Pound it.”  
   
Sebastian’s eyebrows raise, but he does, bumping his fist into the kid’s and grinning after Caleb as he takes off down the hallway. He looks back at Chris, and Chris cracks up.  
   
“The fuck was that,” Sebastian asks, laughing too.  
   
“I like him. He’s a bit goofy but he tries really hard.” Chris stands, and holds out his hand. “Come in. Shut the door behind you.”  
   
Sebastian quirks an eyebrow, and jokes, “Yes, sir.”  
   
He does close the door, and takes Chris’s hand, lets himself be pulled in.  
   
“Sorry, still got my teacher hat on. Didn’t mean to order you around.”  
   
“I didn’t hate it,” Sebastian says, with a smile. He circles his arms around Chris’s waist and leans in to kiss him. “Hello.”  
   
Smoothing his fingers over the silky fabric of the shirt, Chris looks closer at it. He wouldn’t use the word  _dope_  to describe it, or to describe anything, but it’s nice. He realizes something after a minute, and it makes his heart skip a beat. “Pink roses?”  
   
“It isn’t new. Just … saw it in my closet this morning, and it made me think of you, and … Friday.” His expression is hesitant, like he isn’t sure if Chris is going to like that. He’s dead wrong.  
   
Chris kisses him, dipping his tongue out to taste, hugging Sebastian to his chest with smooth fabric under his fingers. Sebastian looks dizzy when Chris pulls back. They haven’t seen each other for a few days, busy with classes and research and midterms. Chris has sent and received about a hundred texts, but hasn’t actually seen Sebastian since their foray into physical on the weekend. His pulse increases, just thinking about it. He’s been actively trying  _not_ to think about it, because he has classes to teach and tests to grade and he goes useless if he spends too much time remembering.  
   
“The, uh … the weekend,” Sebastian starts tentatively.  
   
“Upcoming or previous?”  
   
“Previous.” He blinks up at Chris, a slight frown tugging at his forehead, creasing lines into his skin. “Are you … okay? With everything?”  
   
“Are you asking if I regret it?” Chris asks, astonished that Sebastian could think he would.  
   
“Not exactly. Just … checking in.”  
   
Chris kisses him again. He doesn’t have a couch in his office like Sebastian does, but he has a big leather chair, so he sits in it and pulls Sebastian into his lap. Sebastian settles on his thighs, leaning into him, looking a little less worried than when he’d broached the subject.  
   
“It was amazing,” Chris promises him. “ _You_ are amazing.”  
   
“You too.” Sebastian kisses his forehead and then sort of folds into him, curling himself up in Chris’s arms. “This is okay, right?”  
   
“Stop,” Chris says, gently. He doesn’t know where all this insecurity has come from all of a sudden. He wants to ask, wants to beg Sebastian to tell him if something happened, something that left him off balance and needy for reassurance, but he doesn’t. Sebastian will tell him if he wants to. Chris doesn’t push. But Sebastian thinking for one second that Chris might not have enjoyed their night together, or that Chris isn’t enjoying having Sebastian in his lap right now, isn’t something he can let stand. “Everything’s okay. What we did, and you here right now, all of it. Anything else you want, too. Okay? Come in here and kiss me any time you want. Take me on a million dates that end with me in your bed. I want all of it.”  
   
“We’d be pretty old at the end of a million dates.”  
   
“I’ll probably be bald. You’ll still be sexy.”  
   
Sebastian laughs, soft and happy, and Chris can relax a little, knowing he got Sebastian smiling again.  
   
Because he can’t help himself, Chris does ask. “Are you … alright? Did something happen?”  
   
“Nothing happened. I’m okay.” Sebastian exhales and it’s warm against Chris’s neck. Chris doesn’t believe him, but lets it drop. “Hayley wanted me to invite you for dinner on Thursday, by the way. Just us this time. No awkward small-talk.”  
   
“I’ll be there.”  
   
“Need to think about it first?” Sebastian jokes.  
   
“Nope.” Chris kisses the top of his head. “You, and Hayley and Mackie, football, dinner, sounds perfect. I’m there every time.”  
   
“You call him Mackie?”  
   
“He started calling me Evans. I followed suit.”  
   
“How many times have you hung out with him?” Sebastian asks, sitting up a little so he can see Chris’s eyes.  
   
“Four, maybe? Sunday football at Brady’s has kinda become our thing.”  
   
“You have a thing. With my best friend’s husband.”  
   
“Not  _that_ kinda thing.”  
   
“I know.” Sebastian smiles, and his fingers brush Chris’s cheek. He looks awestruck. “I know. But you’re … friends, with my friends.”  
   
“Should I not be?” Chris asks, frowning.  
   
“No, God, just the opposite. It’s … I really like that.”  
   
“Oh. Good, then.”  
   
“Stitching yourself into my life,” Sebastian says, joking about it, but maybe also serious.  
   
“Got a problem with that?” Chris asks, raising an eyebrow.  
   
Sebastian kisses him. “Definitely not.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
“Hello, handsome!” Hayley greets him, opening the door, her smile big and her outfit much more casual than it was the last time Chris had been at this house.  
   
“Hello, beautiful,” he responds, stepping over the threshold and folding her small body up in a hug. “Haven’t seen you for a while, I missed you.”  
   
“You don’t need to charm me, I already like you.” She swats at him affectionately.   
   
“You are the lifelong best friend of the guy I’m dating, of course I have to charm you.”  
   
“That is an excellent point. Alright, charm away.”  
   
Chris holds up the paper bag in his hands. “I brought wine.”  
   
“Two points.” She takes the bag from him and pulls the bottle out, and then adds, grinning, “ooh, a vintage Cabernet, okay three points.”  
   
Chris pumps his fist and she laughs. He follows her into the kitchen, and accepts the glass of it that she pours for him.  
   
“Sebastian isn’t here yet, but Anthony is in the living room if you’d like to join him. Last I checked the Packers were winning.”  
   
“Do you need help?” he asks. “Smells amazing in here, by the way. You keep feeding me so well, I’ll never leave.”  
   
“Like a stray dog.”  
   
“Exactly.”  
   
“No, everything’s already done, actually. Just waiting for the roast to cook.” She waves her hand in the direction of the living room. “Go be men, I’ll be there in a minute.”  
   
Chris finds Anthony on the couch, already yelling at the television.  
   
“Hey, man.” Chris reaches out to clap his hand, and then sits next to him, leaning against the other arm. “Wilson having a shit night already?”  
   
“I literally don’t even care about this game but he’s been sacked twice and it’s the first damn quarter.” Anthony rolls his eyes. “This is embarrassing.”  
   
“Your guys would never.”  
   
“Not if they wanted to start again for the rest of their career.”  
   
“You ever wanna coach in the NFL?”  
   
“I mean, we could use the millions.” Anthony sends that gap-toothed smile Chris’s way. “And I don’t know how to say this politely, but it’s very white around here.”  
   
Chris laughs. “Nah, man, you’re right and you should definitely say it.”  
   
“Can I join, or are you having a bro moment?” Sebastian’s voice asks from behind them, Chris turns, face breaking into a smile.  
   
“We are, but you are definitely invited.”  
   
Sebastian is in plaid again, green this time. It looks beautiful against his tanned, Balkan skin. He drops down onto the couch between them, and they’ve never kissed in front of anyone before but Chris does it without thinking; tugs him in close and greets him with a slow slide of their lips. Sebastian looks flustered when Chris leans back, but happy.  
   
“Hi, Seabass,” Anthony says obnoxiously, poking Sebastian’s leg with his socked foot.  
   
“You want a kiss, too?” Sebastian asks, turning to him.  
   
“Not from  _you_.” Anthony grins at him. “Maybe from Evans. Get some of that beard burn on me.”  
   
“You’re not allowed to like him better than me." Sebastian shoves at Anthony’s knee. “I was in your wedding party.”  
   
“Too late, I already do,” Anthony jokes, and Sebastian grumbles about it and leans back into Chris, his back against Chris’s chest and his head reclined on Chris’s shoulder.  
   
“I like you the best, don’t worry,” Chris tells him, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders and kissing his cheek.  
   
A roar of the crowd directs Chris’s attention back to the screen, in time to watch Jaron Brown catch a ball at the 20 and run it in for a touchdown.  
   
“Fucking finally, Wilson throws something that isn’t dog shit.” Anthony claps his hands together. “We got a game now, boys!”  
   
“Thrilling,” Sebastian deadpans. Chris grins into his hair.  
   
“Are the green ones still winning?” Hayley asks, coming into the room with two glasses of wine in her hand, one of which she sets on the coffee table for Sebastian. She sits in the chair to Chris’s right, and squints at the screen.  
   
“It’s Green _Bay_ , babe,” Anthony corrects, sounding fond about it. “And yes, for now.”  
   
“Why is it seven points for one goal?” Sebastian asks. “American football is stupid.”  
   
“It is called a  _touchdown_ , which I have told you approximately seven thousand times.” Anthony rubs his hands over his face. “You two are exhausting.”  
   
“Does the kicking guy do anything else?” Sebastian asks. “Or is that his entire job?”  
   
“That’s his entire job,” Chris confirms.  
   
“Stupid,” he repeats.  
   
Anthony looks murderous, but Chris says, “You kinda have to give him that one. It is kinda stupid.”  
   
“I’m not listening to any of this,” Anthony says.  
   
“So this, when he comes on to kick after the touchdown,” Sebastian gestures at the screen. “This is different from a field goal.”  
   
“Yes,” Chris confirms. “A field goal is when they kick it from further out, usually because they don’t think they’re gonna make a touchdown pass so they settle for getting a few points instead of none.”  
   
“And its four?”  
   
“Three.”  
   
“Okay.” Sebastian frowns and nods. “Confusing, but I’ll get it.”  
   
“Y’know, I feel like I should be a little insulted,” Anthony complains. “We’ve been friends for three years, and you never once cared to learn about football for me, even though it’s my literal job. And now suddenly you’re all full’a questions because this dude who kisses you likes it.”  
   
“How much have you learned about mercantilism or the American Revolution in the last three years?” Sebastian returns, smart and quick about it.  
   
Anthony laughs. “Okay. Fair enough.”  
   
“You don’t have to learn about football.” Chris kisses Sebastian’s hair. “I don’t care.”  
   
Sebastian tips his chin up, looking at Chris upside down. “I want to. You like it, so I want to.”  
   
Anthony lets out such a ridiculous, exaggerated  _aww_ , and Chris can feel himself blushing, but he kisses the tip of Sebastian’s nose anyway. When he looks up, he notices Hayley watching them. She’d been quiet, since coming into the room and asking about the score, and Chris is a little bit bowled over at the look he finds on her face; just for a moment, just until she notices him staring and then looks away. She’d looked somewhere caught between astonished, and hopeful, and exuberantly happy, watching Sebastian cuddled up to Chris on her couch, watching Chris kiss his hair. Like she’d been dying for years to see him cared for and treated nicely, and she’s overwhelmed by it now that it’s staring her in the face. The thought has Chris smiling to himself, feeling warm inside, feeling like he belongs in this little family. Feeling like the luckiest person in the world, that Sebastian welcomed him into it.  
   
He kisses Sebastian’s hair again, and Sebastian turns his face into Chris’s neck, whispers, “You good?” just to him.  
   
Chris nods. “Really, really happy.”  
   
He purposely says it loud enough for Hayley to hear.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris hugs everyone at the door, before stepping out into the cool evening with Sebastian. They came separately, he can see Sebastian’s car on the street, but Chris doesn’t want the night to be over just yet. He looks over at Sebastian, brown hair blowing into his eyes in the chilly wind.  
   
“Fuckin’ cold out here,” Sebastian mutters. “One of these years I’m giving up and moving to Cuba.”  
   
“Cigars, sand beaches, trade embargos. Sounds nice.”  
   
Grinning like he thinks Chris is an idiot, but a loveable idiot, he says, “It’s better, now. Thanks Obama. Plus, rum in a bar in Havana, Latin music playing, maybe you with a floral shirt unbuttoned all the way? Tattoos all out for everyone to see? Doesn’t sound so bad.”  
   
“You really like flowers.”  
   
“I really like  _you_ ,” Sebastian says, and then looks like he wishes he hadn’t blurted that out.  
   
It makes Chris’s stomach flip. “Wanna, um. Come back to my place? For a bit?”  
   
Sebastian’s eyes darken, just a little, barely enough to be perceptible in the low porch light. “You know Hayley’s probably watching us from the window, right? Through a gap in the blinds?”  
   
“So?”  
   
“So, kiss me.”  
   
Chris does, moving into him and sliding his cold lips over Sebastian’s, cozying himself up to all that body heat.  
   
“I’m trying to think of some kind of sexy football pun,” Sebastian says, lips wet and leaving spots on Chris’s cheek cool as the air hits the moisture. “Something about a huddle. Or a … tight end.”  
   
Chris laughs loudly. “You’re ridiculous.”  
   
“Offer still standing, to take me home with you? Or did I ruin it with attempted cheesy pick-up lines.”  
   
“You could give me the  _did it hurt when you fell from heaven_ line and I’d still take you home with me and put my mouth on your dick.”  
   
“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes, not expecting Chris to go there. Chris grins, victorious in the game of turning Sebastian on with just a few words. “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”  
   
“I’ll miss you until then.”  
   
“It’s five minutes away.”  
   
“Yep. I’m nuts about you, and I miss you when you’re gone. Deal with it.”  
   
“After one blow-job,” Sebastian jokes. “You’re easy.”  
   
“Technically,” Chris says, drawing the word out and hooking his arms around Sebastian’s back. “It was a blow-job, a hand-job, and  _several_  hours of making out and rubbin’ up on me and your tongue down my throat.”  
   
Sebastian hums, and his lips find Chris’s jaw.  
   
The door flies open, and they both jump, and turn to see Hayley with her eyebrows raised and her expression fondly exasperated. “Quit snogging on my front porch, you lunatics. Either come back inside or go home.”  
   
“Home,” Sebastian decides immediately, grabbing Chris’s hand. “Goodnight, Hayley, we love you.”  
   
She mutters something about indecent exposure, and shuts the door in their faces.  
   
“See you in five minutes,” Chris tells him.  
   
“Miss you till then,” Sebastian replies.  
   
He waits outside, once he gets back to his house, for Sebastian’s car to catch up, and for him to find a spot on the street to park. Sebastian is on him as soon as he gets close enough, kissing Chris’s neck as he fumbles for his keys and misses the lock three times because his hands are shaking. They tumble inside together, arms wrapped around each other and lips attached. Chris is amazed they manage to get over the threshold and get the door shut behind them without somebody losing their balance and sending them both to the floor. Dodger comes over and demands attention, so for a few painful minutes, he has to stop touching, but then he tells Dodger to go to his bed in the kitchen, and drags Sebastian up the stairs.  
   
Needy hands tug at items of clothing, pulling them up and off and leaving them on the floor in a path to the bed like breadcrumbs. Chris lies on top of Sebastian, covering his body with is own, kissing him and rolling his hips down, his erection sliding against Sebastian’s, sandwiched between warm skin. Sebastian’s hands clutch at his back, the dull scrape of nails on his skin, and slide down to his ass, pushing Chris against him harder. His fingers squeeze, the tips dipping in between the cheeks, not quite touching but close enough to it to make Chris’s head spin at the idea of Sebastian putting fingers there. It’s too quick but he wants it, wants Sebastian to touch him everywhere. So he doesn’t lose control and start suggesting things they aren’t ready for, Chris moves down Sebastian’s body, sliding his tongue all over that gorgeous bronze skin as he goes, and takes Sebastian’s cock between his lips.  
   
He’s warm and sated and relaxed, later, with his head on Sebastian’s chest, Sebastian’s arms loosely around him, fingers drawing patterns up and down Chris’s spine. In all Chris’s other relationships, he’d been so much bigger than his partner, so by default he’d been the one doing the holding, when they’d lie like this. Sebastian nearly matches his size, almost the same height, shoulders only an inch narrower. Chris lies against him, lets himself be cuddled, and is surprised at how much he likes it. How much he likes being in someone’s arms, feeling small, feeling protected. It’s more than physical, he feels like he doesn’t have to be strong around Sebastian. At least not all the time. Feels like he could break apart a little sometimes, and Sebastian might be there to hug him through it. He has no evidence for this, no proof that Sebastian wouldn’t cringe and wait uncomfortably for Chris to get over it like some of the others did, but he knows it anyway. He knows Sebastian wouldn’t.   
   
Like he can read minds – or maybe Chris had even been speaking out loud, he isn’t sure – Sebastian says, “I wanted to ask you … after last time. I guess it isn’t really a question. You talked about, anxiety.”  
   
“I get all wrapped up in my head sometimes,” Chris says. “Overthink everything. Get … you know. Negative voices. Not actual voices, just … thoughts that drag you down.”  
   
“Like what?” Sebastian asks softly, like he really wants to understand.  
   
“That I’m not good enough, mostly,” Chris admits. He gets such a knot in his chest every time he’s tried to talk about this, and has a pattern of telling people who didn’t really want to listen. Sebastian seems to be different. “At … anything. At my job, or – good enough for someone to – want me.”  
   
He’d almost said  _love me_ , but held it back at the last second. He can’t put that on Sebastian. It wouldn’t be fair.  
   
“Does it get really bad?”  
   
“Sometimes. Not that often, but sometimes.”  
   
Sebastian’s hand comes up to pet through his hair. “See, when I look at you, you’re just … sunshine. You’re so nice to everybody and caring and sweet and … it’s hard to believe someone like you doesn’t know how wonderful they are.”  
   
Chris turns his face into Sebastian’s neck, the words falling over him like being wrapped up in a blanket warmed in the dryer, like his Mom used to when he was sick with a fever. “Thank you.”  
   
“But, I know it doesn’t work that way. I know it doesn’t have to be rational. So, if … I don’t know, if you ever need reminding. That you’re fantastic, and smart, and definitely, definitely good enough. You could just ask me, and I could tell you. If it would help.”  
   
“Couldn’t hurt,” Chris says, instead of all the gooey, romantic, far too embarrassing things he’d like to say.  
   
“Okay. I could start by telling you … it’s been a long time since I’ve been as happy as I was tonight. I don’t mean my life is awful, it isn’t, but … you with me, at my best friends’ house, making Hayley smile, becoming friends so fast with Anthony. That … I don’t want to get too mushy about it, but. It means a lot to me, that you like them. So thank you, for that. For … being so great.”  
   
Chris pushes up to his elbow so he can see Sebastian’s face, finds emotion shining in his blue eyes. He kisses him, slow and thorough. “I’m happy, with you,” he whispers, and Sebastian whispers, “me too.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
Scott visits on the weekend. Chris is so excited to see him. He’d gone home a few weekends ago to see his parents and his sisters, but Scott had been away on business. They talk constantly on the phone, but he hasn’t physically seen his brother since he helped move Chris into his new house in August. The hug he wraps Scott up in, when he appears on Chris’s doorstep on Saturday morning, is so tight it’s bruising, and Scott bitches at him to let go.  
   
“What’s got you all handsy?” he asks, laughing as he greets Dodger and comes inside.  
   
“Missed my little brother, what’s wrong with that?”  
   
“Nothing’s wrong with it per se, until you get too excited and accidentally break my ribs, like that character from Of Mice and Men who kills the rabbit.”  
   
“I think it’s a puppy. And don’t talk about that unless you want me to start crying. You know I can’t handle sad animal stories.”  
   
“Okay, princess.” Scott looks around. “Why does it still look like a sad bachelor’s pad in here?”  
   
“Because I’m a sad bachelor?” Chris suggests.  
   
“Hilarious. I  _mean,_ why do you still not have more furniture. It looks like you moved in yesterday.”  
   
“I’ve been busy,” Chris defends himself. He follows Scott into the kitchen, watching Scott help himself to a beer from the fridge, and hand one to Chris.  
   
“Shaping the young minds of America?” Scott takes a long drink from the glass bottle.  
   
“Trying to. I don’t know if I’m succeeding.”  
   
“Of course you are.”  
   
Chris sits at the island, twists the cap off his own bottle and drinks. He’s so happy to see his brother. He also, for what must be the hundredth time, wants to tell Scott all kinds of things, about his life and his past and about the man who he woke up next to yesterday, Sebastian’s back pressed against Chris’s chest, Chris with an arm around him like he was a teddy bear. He’d woken up slowly, a few minutes before his alarm was set to go off, and had kissed Sebastian’s shoulder, rubbed his hands over all that warm skin, smiled so much his cheeks hurt when Sebastian had stirred and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. It felt warm and domestic and Chris had loved it so much. He wants to tell Scott all about it. And again, when he opens his mouth, the words don’t come. He wishes he knew why.  
   
Scott is frowning at him, and Chris realizes he’s being uncharacteristically quiet.  
   
“Sorry. I’m tired today. Let’s go do something, I’ll be more fun once I’m out of the house.”  
   
“There’s a hickey on your neck,” Scott says.  
   
Chris’s eyes go wide, and his hand goes to it, feeling around and finding a bruise with his fingertips. “Fuck,” he breathes. “It’s … any chance I could get you to believe I burned it with a curling iron?”  
   
“Not unless that’s a new kind of sex toy I’m not aware of.” Scott’s eyes twinkle with barely controlled glee. “Oh my God, who has been sucking on your neck?”  
   
“Scott,” Chris groans.  
   
“No, no fucking way! We tell each other everything, you can  _not_ hold back on me now. Tell me immediately,” Scott demands, slapping his hand down onto the counter.  
   
Chris wants to so badly it feels like food poisoning, like his organs rebelling against him and leaving cramping in his stomach. He just can’t. “Someone … new.”  
   
Scott stares at him with his mouth halfway open. “Someone  _new_? That’s all you’re gonna say?”  
   
“It’s … it might be something real. That’s why I don’t wanna say anything, okay? I don’t wanna jinx it.”  
   
“How would telling me her name jinx it? I’m not gonna Facebook stalk her.”  
   
“I’ll tell you soon. As soon as I know … what it is, or what it’s gonna be.” Chris doesn’t mention how it hurts, to let someone assume something so personal about him that isn’t true. Especially someone like Scott.  
   
Scott, mercifully, lets it lie, but not without making a fuss over it. “Fine. Fine don’t tell me, keep secrets from your own brother.”  
   
“I will tell you,” Chris promises. “Soon.”  
   
“Fine!” Scott cries dramatically, throwing his hands in the air and walking away. Chris stares down at the bottle in his hands, and blinks the sting out of his eyes.  
   
*           *           *


	10. Chapter 10

Chris is in Sebastian’s lap, straddled over his thighs, on the couch in Sebastian’s office once again. Sebastian’s resolve to not let himself start associating his office with Chris and making out at work lasted about a week. Chris is far too irresistible. He too often wears sweaters or button-ups that struggle to stretch over his biceps. He looks too gorgeous with his glasses on, those bottomless wells of clear, sky blue surrounded by miles of eyelashes and black plastic, sophisticated and masculine but pretty all at the same time. Sebastian sees him in the hallways or in the library, reading with a little wrinkle between his eyebrows and the tip of a pen in his mouth, unconsciously drawing attention to his lips, and he just  _wants_. He usually fails relatively miserably at pushing the thoughts away until the end of the day when they can go back to his apartment or Chris’s house and do something about the way Sebastian gets all hot and bothered when Chris so much as smiles at him.  
   
“So, not, um. Necessarily for in the immediate future,” Sebastian begins, hating this part and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. It’s been on his mind, lately, and he needs to get it out. When he picks someone up in a bar and doesn’t plan on letting them into his life for longer than a few hours, it isn’t awkward. He can just say it, and they can too, because it doesn’t matter. There’s no sense in being embarrassed in front of someone he’ll never see again after the next morning. With Chris, it’s different. “But for … whenever. We should probably talk about what you … like.”  
   
Chris frowns down at him, and Sebastian huffs in frustration, and annoyance at himself. Of course that didn’t make any sense. “Uh, what?”  
   
“Do you top or bottom?” Sebastian asks outright, and when Chris blushes and his eyes drop, he adds, “yeah, that’s why I was attempting to tiptoe around it.”  
   
Chris’s lips curve into a soft smile. “It’s okay. We should be able to talk about it, right? If we’re gonna do it at some point.”  
   
Sebastian brushes his soft hair back with his fingers, and kisses Chris’s shoulder over his blazer, because Chris is still looking down at their legs. “You know we don’t have to. Some guys don’t like it, and that’s – ”  
   
“Are you kidding?” Chris asks, eyes finally flying up to meet Sebastian’s. “Of course I wanna fucking have sex with you.”  
   
The second the words are out of his mouth he blushes even deeper, but it goes right to Sebastian’s head; and his dick. He groans and drops his head forward to Chris’s chest. “You can’t just say things like that without warning me first.”  
   
“Sorry.” Chris chuckles and wraps his arms around Sebastian’s neck, hugs him close. “So, your original question. I … kinda both, I guess? Eric, he …”  
   
“The asshole,” Sebastian cuts in. He kisses Chris’s neck. “I don’t wanna hear his name ever again. He doesn’t get a name, he doesn’t deserve you considering his humanity. If we ever have to talk about him, he’s just The Asshole.”  
   
Chris laughs again, low and soft and shaky, like he’s both flattered and a little turned on at Sebastian defending him. “Okay. The Asshole didn’t like to top, is what I was gonna say. He did it a couple times because I wanted him to but … he didn’t like it very much, so I didn’t like it very much. It felt good but it didn’t feel … good. If that makes any sense.”  
   
Sebastian nods. “Physical versus emotional.”  
   
“Yeah. I  _would_  like it, though, with someone who actually … wanted it, too.” Chris clears his throat. “What about you?”  
   
“The same. Depends on who I’m with. Some guys are more one-way about it, so. I can be versatile.”  
   
“Do you have a preference?”  
   
“Not really. Changes, depending on … my mood, I guess. Sometimes it’s nice to be in charge. Sometimes it’s nice to be … taken care of.”  
   
Chris hums, and it vibrates against Sebastian’s forehead. “I think I’d really like taking care of you.”  
   
He’s glad his face is still buried in Chris’s neck, tucked away safely in all that warmth, so he doesn’t have to look at him as he says, “Sometimes I … like when a guy is stronger than me.”  
   
His hope that Chris will understand what he means, so he doesn’t have to elaborate, is fulfilled. Chris leans down a little, his voice is so low and right in Sebastian’s ear as he murmurs, “Want me to hold you down a little? Pin your wrists to the mattress above your head, fuck you ‘till you can’t walk?”  
   
Sebastian shudders, and his head goes fuzzy for a moment. If he wasn’t already slumped on his couch, his knees might have buckled. “Fuck. Yes. Right now.”  
   
“Can’t here,” Chris whispers to him, sounding as disappointed by it as Sebastian is.  
   
“I know. It’s an actual tragedy.” He lifts his head finally, so he can slide their lips together.  
   
“Hey, thank you,” Chris says, sounding serious. He holds Sebastian’s cheeks in his hands. “For telling me that.”  
   
“It’s not …” Sebastian shrugs. “It isn’t anything.”  
   
“Yeah, it is. You trust me, and … I hope you know I don’t take that lightly.” So much truth shines in his eyes, suddenly it’s hard for Sebastian to breathe.  
   
“The Asshole broke this, didn’t he?” Sebastian asks, pressing his hand over Chris’s heart, feeling the rhythmic beating beneath his palm.  
   
Chris closes his eyes, and nods.  
   
“And here you are, trusting me. When it would be perfectly logical if you never trusted anyone again.” Sebastian pulls his face down so he can kiss Chris’s closed eyelids. “You are amazing. I hope  _you_ know  _that_. And how much I’m gonna prove to you every day that you can keep trusting me.”  
   
Chris lifts his hips up and climbs off Sebastian, so he can sit next to him instead, his legs over Sebastian’s lap and his head of Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian gets him tucked up right against his chest, arms locked around his back, fingers laced together to keep him there. “Wanna talk about it?”  
   
“Not, um. Right now. But maybe at some point,” Chris answers.  
   
“I’m here to listen, whenever you want to.”  
   
“I know you are.”  
   
“I kinda killed the mood, didn’t I? Bringing that up.”  
   
“We should probably stop anyway.” Chris looks up at him, and there’s a glimmer of sadness behind his eyes but he’s smiling again. “Can’t keep doin’ this, here. One of these days we’re gonna get carried away.”  
   
“I’d say we’ve already gotten carried away. Your fault for being so tempting,” Sebastian tells him.  
   
“So are you.” Chris reaches out to touch his lips, and then his cheek. “I should shave. Always leave you all red.”  
   
Smiling and feeling the tingle on his skin, Sebastian shakes his head. “I like it. Especially … other places.”  
   
Chris hums. He brings Sebastian back down to kiss him, and says into it, “So many places on you I haven’t even got my lips yet.”  
   
Sebastian moans, and kisses him harder. “Come with me, to … there’s this bar I used to go to. For … people like us.”  
   
Chris’s forehead crinkles in the smallest of frowns, and Sebastian panics a little.  
   
“No, I don’t mean … it’s, just a gay bar. Yeah, there’s rooms in the back for people who wanna hook up, but that’s not what I meant.”  
   
“I didn’t think that.” Chris shakes his head.  
   
“What’s this for, then?” Sebastian asks, touching the creased skin of his forehead.  
   
“You want me in your … in your life. In all your spaces. Your friends’ house and the bar you like.”  
   
“Yeah. I do.” Admitting it feels brave, even though it’s a conversation they’ve had before, recently, although maybe not in those exact words. “You okay with that?”  
   
“Very much.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
For so many years, since the week after Sebastian moved to New Haven and found it, this bar has been a source of contention in his mind. Sebastian both loves and hates it. He’s comforted by it, because it’s familiar, and people know him, and he can shake off the stuffy professor layer he has to wear around himself like a candy wrapper at work. A few of the regulars know he works at the university, but none of them know him in that context. They just know him as Sebastian, 30-something with the nice stomach muscles and the high fashion pieces, the guy who frequents the back rooms, the guy who goes home with someone he’s got wrapped around his finger, the guy sometimes people whisper about in a way that both flatters and embarrasses him. At the same time, more often than not he winds up here in moments that aren’t his finest. He doesn’t usually find himself heading here when he’s feeling particularly confident, or fulfilled, or proud of an achievement. Instead it’s insecurity and doubt and painful memories that send him walking through these doors. It’s a very mixed bag. There have been a few times he’s left this place feeling better about himself. There have been many more times he’s woken the next morning feeling much worse.  
   
Chris is in leather again. With fitted pale jeans and a white shirt and his hair pushed back, black leather jacket hanging off him just enough to tease the musculature underneath, he looks out of this era. Like a notorious trouble-maker from the 1950s; like James Dean. He’s a stunning portrait of broad shoulders and easy smiles, and Sebastian catches so many people watching them and knows that this time, they aren’t looking at him. He’d dressed more inconspicuously, hadn’t wanted to make a spectacle of himself tonight; hadn’t realized Chris wasn’t on the same page. Although probably, Chris didn’t do this intentionally. He probably just grabbed an outfit out of his closet without putting any more thought into it than choosing a pair of socks. He’s effortless like that.  
   
They sit at the bar, whiskey on the rocks for Sebastian and spiced rum in pineapple juice for Chris – he’s consistent, on his love of sweet things. They chat, and it’s easy, and Sebastian makes him laugh, and Chris reaches over to squeeze the back of his neck. Sebastian doesn’t mind at all that the touch feels like he’s being claimed in public, in a place where he’s been notoriously unbound to anyone. Chris could have walked him in here on a leash and Sebastian might not have minded. He isn’t into that sort of thing but he wants to belong to this man, and he wants everyone to know that he does.  
   
“Hey there, sexy,” a male voice purrs in Sebastian’s ear. A hand is touching him, fingers on the back of his neck. It makes his skin prickle. Sebastian tenses and turns to look. He recognizes the man, unfortunately, but forgets his name.  
   
“Uh, hi,” he says uncomfortably.  
   
“Jason,” the man says with a smirk. “I know you don’t keep track.”  
   
“I knew that,” Sebastian lies.  
   
“Up for some fun?” Jason asks, his dark eyes flashing.  
   
“No thanks.” Sebastian really wants him gone, but can tell he isn’t planning on leaving any time soon.  
   
“C’mon.” That hand is touching him again, fingers brushing through his hair. Sebastian flinches away from it, probably more dramatically than was necessary, but Chris always has his hands in Sebastian’s hair, and it feels like cheating to let someone else touch it. “We both know you never say no. Everyone in here knows that.”  
   
It’s said as if it’s meant to be a compliment, as if his lack of self-worth somehow makes him appealing. It makes Sebastian’s throat close.  
   
“Hey,” comes Chris’s voice from Sebastian’s other side. Chris leans forward so he can see the person bothering them. “Back off, pal, he said he’s not interested.”  
   
Jason eyes him, looking briefly annoyed at being interrupted, and then he takes in Chris and his expression slides into interested. “And who’s this?”  
   
“My boyfriend,” Sebastian answered, his nerve buoyed by Chris standing up for him.  
   
“Oh yeah?” He’s still eyeing Chris like a predator but his grin is tinged in cruelty. “How many hours have you known him?”  
   
Before Sebastian can answer, Chris stands beside him and moves slowly, putting his big body in between them, broad-shouldered and straightened to his full height in a way he usually isn’t. He usually slouches a little, making himself smaller, trying not to be too imposing. Right now he’s stretched up past six feet, towering over Jason. “Are we gonna have a problem?” he asks, in a low voice.  
   
Sebastian has never heard that voice before. It puts flashes into his mind of a much younger Chris, hair gel and hooded sweatshirts, getting into bar fights in Boston. Rougher and working-class and less refined than he is now, never starting it because he’s kind and good but more than willing to lay someone out if they ran their mouth and deserved it. He imagines Chris using his size and his strength for good, like a superhero, defending against bullies, pulling guys off drunk girls at parties, talking back when a teacher said something hurtful to the slower students. It’s a really nice thought. Still, Sebastian doesn’t want that side coming out and getting them in trouble. He tugs at the sleeve of Chris’s jacket. “It’s okay, Chris. Leave it.”  
   
“He knows your name. Impressive,” Jason says. He looks at Sebastian around Chris and asks, “Does he know every guy in here had you before him?”  
   
“What’s your deal, man?” Sebastian asks. “We’re just trying to get a drink, are you really this pissed that I turned you down?”  
   
“Didn’t turn me down last time. Probably won’t next time either, once you get tired of this one.”  
   
Calmly, but dangerously, Chris says, “Here are your options, shithead. You can apologize and you can leave, or we can take this outside.”  
   
Jason snorts derisively, but Sebastian sees the flicker of worry pass over his face. He ignores Chris and addresses Sebastian again, cocky and pretending to be surer of himself than he probably is. “Found yourself a Dom, did you? He’s hot, Seb. He’d do well in here, if you’re willing to share.”  
   
“Fuck you,” Sebastian snaps. Insulting him is one thing. Suggesting he’d let Chris be passed around like a bong at a house party is going too far.  
   
“He won’t make a great Sub,” Jason tells Chris, nodding in Sebastian’s direction to indicate to whom he’s referring. “Too bossy. You’ll have to break him, like a horse.”  
   
“Shut the fuck up, I’m not kidding.” Chris puts a hand on Jason’s chest and pushing him a step backwards.  
   
Sebastian can’t believe this idiot still doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t. He smiles, that horrible, sneering, Grinch-like smile, and gets in closer to Chris again. He puts his hands on Chris, low on his stomach, and says, “I could show you a better time than him, you know. Big, sexy lumberjacks are my type. They’re not Seb’s. He likes ‘em smooth, and young.”  
   
Sebastian splutters something incoherent. He doesn’t have a clue what this guy is talking about, that’s just a straight up lie, and this person he slept with once years ago wouldn’t have any idea what Sebastian’s type is anyway. He tries to say so, but Chris has evidently had enough. He shoves again, pushing Jason back so hard he stumbles and crashes into the bar stool behind him, barely managing to right himself before he goes tumbling to the floor.  
   
“Did you think I was joking?” Chris snarls at him. “I would  _happily_ spend the night in jail with your blood on my knuckles. Walk the fuck away.”  
   
Jason belatedly seems to realize Chris is being deadly serious, and sizes him up and realizes he wouldn’t come out better in that contest if he forced Chris to make good on his promise. He scoffs at them, simpers, “Yes, Daddy,” at Chris, and then strolls away like the interaction meant nothing to him. It probably did.  
   
Everyone is looking at them, including a massive security guard by the door who is watching them intently, ready to intervene if it had escalated further. So many eyes feel like spiders on Sebastian’s skin, and several faces he does recognize as men he’s seen naked, and coming here was such an enormous mistake. Sebastian should have known that. He  _did_ know it, on some level, but on another level, he’d wanted people he’s been with to see. To see him with a boyfriend, in a real relationship with someone who cares about him, in a way none of them ever did. He’d needed that moment, that  _you never believed I was worth anything_ moment, but now he regrets it. It was so petty, and insecure, and pathetic, to be desperate for the approval of people who never cared about him anyway.  
   
Chris turns to him, the anger and the tough-guy bravado slipping away from his face and melting to concern when he meets Sebastian’s eyes. He moves in close, not caring that they have a captive, judging audience, and his hands curl around the back of Sebastian’s neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, soft and sweet and caring, and Sebastian wants to burrow into his arms and hide there until morning.  
   
“Can we go?” he asks, hating the way his voice shakes.  
   
“Yeah, of course we can.” Chris digs into his wallet for a bill to toss onto the bar, and puts his arm around Sebastian’s shoulders, possessive, protective, as he leads him towards the exit. Sebastian wraps his arm around Chris’s waist and grips his jacket and doesn’t care so much that people are still looking. He walks out of the bar with Chris and knows he’ll never be back. Even if the two of them don’t last forever, even if Chris breaks up with him tomorrow, Sebastian will never come back to this place.  
   
He doesn’t say anything, as they drive home. Chris steers the truck with his left hand and holds Sebastian’s in his right, their fingers threaded together and resting in Sebastian’s lap. He keeps looking over, but Sebastian doesn’t look back. Eventually Sebastian starts to sense that he’s scaring Chris, so he goes to say something. He doesn’t think about it first, he just lets unhappiness pour out of his mouth. “You know he was right.”  
   
“ _No_ he wasn’t,” Chris says quickly, insistently, before he even knows what Sebastian is referring to.  
   
“Not about everything. But about some things. You should know that, before you get too involved with me.” Sebastian looks down at the hand in his; big, beautiful, strong hands, like Chris’s heart, and he doesn’t deserve to have all that gold tainted by Sebastian’s grey. “I did let guys use me. More than I told you, before. There were guys in there, that I’ve … and I slept with him, too. And I didn’t remember his name.”  
   
Abruptly, Chris is taking his hand back and pulling his truck over to the side of the road. He throws it into park and gets out, and Sebastian is suddenly terrified, watching him walk around to the passenger’s side. He doesn’t know if he’s about to be broken up with or punched in the nose. Chris pulls his door open, and says, “Get out.”  
   
He looks desperately sad, not angry, and Sebastian does as he asks, confused until Chris closes the door behind him and pushes him up against it, kissing him with fingers rough in his hair.  
   
“I don’t care, do you hear me?” Chris asks fiercely. Sebastian has never seen him look so serious. “I don’t care if you’ve slept with a thousand guys, doesn’t give some drunk asshole the right to talk to you like that.”  
   
“You should just … know,” Sebastian says. There are so many things in his head right now, and he can’t bring himself to say any of them. “I don’t want false pretenses.”  
   
“Do you think I’ve never been with anyone else? That I haven’t done things I regret?” Chris’s fingers soften, carding through Sebastian’s hair gently. “None of it matters. Now, is what matters. Who you are right now. How much I like you in my arms. How much I … care, about you. If you think I’m about to break up with you because you slept around before we met … you’re just … wrong. I don’t care.”  
   
Sebastian looks down, fixes his gaze on Chris’s chest because he can’t look into those intense eyes. Quietly, he asks, “what if it was a thousand? It isn’t, but … is there a number? A threshold, where you’d change your mind?”  
   
“No, fuck no,” Chris says. He gets fired up again after just a moment of gentleness, grumbling, “I’m gonna go back there and beat his face in for making you think things like that.”  
   
“I don’t want you to hurt anybody,” Sebastian says, nearly positive that Chris wouldn’t and is just venting, but cautious about it just in case.  
   
Chris leans forward, tipping his head to rest against Sebastian’s forehead, and he can feel it, suddenly. The emotions coming off Chris right now are more complicated, more twisted up, much more complex than just being mad at a jerk in a bar. There’s more to it.  
   
“What else is wrong?” he asks.  
   
“Nothing,” Chris mumbles, and he’s obviously lying.  
   
“Tell me,” Sebastian says, nicely but he isn’t asking.  
   
“I couldn’t tell my brother about us.”  
   
Sebastian frowns, and doesn’t understand what that has to do with their current situation. “You, what?”  
   
“He was here, on the weekend. I tried to tell him. Or even just … leaving you out of it, I tried to tell him about  _me_. And I fucking couldn’t.”  
   
“That’s okay, Chris.”  
   
“No, it fucking isn’t.” Chris pushes himself roughly back, using the car as his springboard, and turns away. He rubs his hands over his hair before he looks back, his eyes wide and angry. “I’m so mad at myself, for two years with Eric I tried to tell my family and every time I couldn’t do it. And now? Scott’s gay, did you know that? I never even told you that, did I?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head.  
   
“He’s gay, he’s like – fully, out, proud, all of that. Has been since we were teenagers. So I  _know_ my family’s cool with it, I have like actual, physical evidence that they are. And I still can’t tell them. And Scott … he’s my best friend, in the whole world. I’ve always told him everything. I told him about my first kiss and the first time I had sex, he was the first person I called when I got an article published for the first time.  _I_ was the first person he came out to. I was 17 and he was 15 and he cried on my shoulder in my bedroom. We’ve never had secrets, ever. And now, I’m fucking 37 years old and I’m dating a man, for the  _second_ time, and my  _gay_ brother comes over to my house and asks about a fucking hickey you left on my neck, and I can’t even tell him.”  
   
It isn’t the right thing to say, but Sebastian’s breath is coming in short, scared pants, he’s never seen Chris this upset, and he wants to understand and to make it better but he doesn’t know how, and what comes out of his mouth, is, “Why?”  
   
Chris growls in frustration and rubs his face again. “I don’t fucking know. It doesn’t make any sense and I’m  _furious_ with myself about it, but I don’t know.”  
   
Sebastian falls silent. He’s so concerned about making it worse, and still unsettled from what happened at the bar, and it’s all such a mess. This entire night was a mistake. Chris glances at him, and his face falls.  
   
“Fuck, you look terrified, I’m so fuckin' sorry.” Chris reaches out with slow, tentative fingers, like he’s expecting Sebastian to flinch away. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
   
“I’m not scared of you. I’m worried because you’re so upset.”  
   
Chris drops his arms down to his sides and shrugs helplessly. “It’s been a … tough week.”  
   
Sebastian takes a step closer and rubs his hands over Chris’s arms, trying to placate him. When it seems like Chris isn’t going to snap and get agitated again, Sebastian moves into him and kisses the corner of his mouth.  
   
Chris sighs and shakes his head, dropping it down to rest against Sebastian’s shoulder, and Sebastian hugs his arms tightly around Chris’s back. His heart feels a little less broken when he feels Chris hug him back. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t’ve tried to fight him. That was stupid.”  
   
“You went all Boston on me,” Sebastian says, and can’t deny that he didn’t mind at all.  
   
“Sorry,” Chris repeats.  
   
“For what, defending my honor? That’s what a boyfriend is supposed to do. I’d do it for you. Plus, it was kinda hot.”  
   
“You’d fight a guy in a bar for me?”  
   
“I mean, I’ve never actually been in a fight, so I’d definitely lose. But. Yes. I’d lose a fight for you.”  
   
Chris smiles against his neck. “Your place or mine?”  
   
“Yours,” Sebastian answers. He likes Chris’s place better, lately. There’s only good memories in it. There are no lingering ghosts of rough nights and unhealthy coping mechanisms.   
   
He crawls over Chris and tries to kiss him, once they’re in t-shirts and boxers and under the covers of Chris’s bed. Chris kisses back, for a few minutes, with his hands pushed up under the Patriots shirt Sebastian had borrowed from him, but it’s half-hearted, so Sebastian stops. He stays close, body pressed to Chris’s side and his thigh between Chris’s leg. He’s not quite uninterested in his briefs and neither is Sebastian but it isn’t going anywhere tonight, so Sebastian just leaves his leg there, hoping somehow the contact and the heat is comforting.  
   
“Talk to me about your brother. About not being able to tell him.”  
   
“That guy said some really horrible things to you, and I made it all about myself,” Chris says instead; mildly aggravated.  
   
“No, you didn’t. I’m okay, I … I’ve got some things to work through too, I guess, but one thing at a time. Talk to me about you.”  
   
“I don’t know why I can’t tell him,” Chris sounds so ashamed.  
   
“Hey.” Sebastian cups his cheek, makes Chris look at him. He taps Chris’s temple with his middle finger. “Bully who lives in Chris’s head, quit being mean to my boyfriend.”  
   
Chris smiles a little and manages a small laugh, but still looks emotional. “I’ve spent so much time defending Scott. I got suspended twice for beating up a kid who called him a … word that I’m not gonna repeat. Spent so much time telling him it didn’t matter what people said, and he was normal, and anyone who had a problem wasn’t worth shit anyway. I was always patting myself on the back for being a good ally or whatever the fuck and now … it’s like those kids are in my head but they’re not outside voices, it’s  _me._  All those thoughts were in my head all along.”  
   
“Scott was really, really lucky. Everyone should have a big brother like you,” Sebastian tells him. He rubs under Chris’s eye with his thumb. “It took me over a year, to tell Hayley. I bet it took Scott a long time to tell you, too, even with how amazing he knew you’d be. This isn’t an easy thing for anyone.”  
   
“How old were you?” Chris asks.  
   
“18,” Sebastian answers. “19, I guess, by the time I got up the courage to tell her.”  
   
“I think that’s the difference. Not to say it wasn’t hard for you, I … sorry, I don’t wanna sound like I’m belittling …”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “I know that’s not what you meant. I asked you to talk to me about this. Nothing you say is going to be wrong.”  
   
Chris looks overwhelmed by that, something painful and profound passing over his face, and he turns his nose into the pillow.  
   
“Okay,” Sebastian says softly, sensing he isn’t going to get much else by way of explanation, and really, he doesn’t need it. He’s here if Chris wants to talk, but if he doesn’t, he isn’t going to force it. He gathers Chris’s big body into his arms. “It’s okay.”  
   
“I don’t want you to think I’m hiding you,” Chris says, his voice small against Sebastian’s shoulder.  
   
“I don’t think that. You had me in your arms on my best friends’ couch just the other day. You kissed me on their doorstep. You kissed me tonight when the whole place was looking. You aren’t hiding me. You’re just … figuring this out in stages.”  
   
Chris nods.  
   
“We don’t have to fix this tonight. Just promise me something?”  
   
“Anything.”  
   
“Next time you have a tough week, tell me.  _Before_  it escalates to you fighting dudes in bars and us yelling on the side of the road.”  
   
“I was the one yelling, not you.”  
   
“Promise me,” Sebastian repeats.  
   
“Yeah. Okay, I promise.”  
   
“Good.”  
   
“Thank you,” Chris whispers. “I … just, thank you.”  
   
“Go to sleep.” Sebastian kisses his hair and keeps his arms around Chris’s back; keeps him close.  
   
“You’re gonna stay, right?”  
  
He sounds so unsure about it, and it breaks Sebastian’s heart a little bit. This gorgeous, generous, miracle of a man should never spend one second of his life worrying that someone doesn’t want him back, especially when Sebastian has never wanted anything so much.  
  
“‘Course I’m gonna stay.” He says. He thinks,  _I’d stay forever if you let me_.  
   
*           *           *


	11. Chapter 11

In the morning, Sebastian makes pancakes. He refuses to let Chris lift a finger even though it’s his house, his kitchen. He just orders Chris sit at the island and talk to him while he whisks flour and milk and eggs and pours the mixture into a sizzling frying pan. He makes a Mickey Mouse shaped one for Chris, and a dog shaped one for Dodger. He puts a plate down in front of Chris, with a smiley face made out of maple syrup on the pancake, and then he sits on the kitchen floor, in his underwear and Chris’s old t-shirt, to feed Dodger his treat. Chris is still unsteady after last night, but in that moment his heart is so full it might burst. Makes him want to say all kinds of things. He says some of them. Tells Sebastian he’s wonderful, and sweet, and he kisses the rest of his thoughts into Sebastian’s lips when he gets up off the floor and leans in with a joke about wanting to taste maple on Chris’s tongue.  
   
They drive to the university together. It means they’ll have to come back here together in the evening, because Sebastian’s car is still on the street in front of Chris’s house. They’ll stop by Sebastian’s apartment to feed Riot and give him some attention, maybe have dinner there, and then spend the night at Chris’s so he’s there to feed Dodger in the morning. It’s become their routine. Sebastian seems to like Chris’s place better than his own. Chris hasn’t asked why. Sebastian kisses him goodbye, outside his office, before he walks away down the hall. People see it. Not people Chris knows, he doesn’t recognize any of the students or other staff who were walking by at that moment, but still people. Other humans, who aren’t their close friends, saw Sebastian kiss him. Chris is elated by it. For just a moment, he wants to run up to the roof of the building with a megaphone and start yelling about it.  
   
He teaches his two classes. He fills out a departmental report and emails it to Human Resources. He makes a good dent in the hundreds of emails currently waiting for his attention. He drinks way too much coffee and ends up jittery. Several times, in quiet moments, he finds his mind drifting to the night before. To Sebastian’s face as Chris shouted rambling nonsense on the side of the road; so worried and fearful. To lying in his bed with Sebastian’s arms around him. To being allowed to just exist, silent and comfortable, next to someone who hadn’t demanded answers, but had been willing to listen if Chris volunteered them. To soft understanding, to  _it’s okay, Chris_ , to breakfast and being sweet with Dodger this morning and holding his hand in the truck. Chris’s first breakdown in front of him – it will be the first of many.   
   
Chris wears his emotions so close to the surface. He always has. He never managed to grow a filter; to develop whatever measures of control adults are supposed to have, so they don’t run around in circles screaming when they’re happy and collapse into uncontrollable sobs when they’re sad. Chris doesn’t have that ability. Everything he feels, he feels it sharp and bright and violent, so last night will be the first of many, many nights like it. He will jump up and down and giggle like a maniac when he’s excited, and rage when faced with injustice, and cry when insecurities or a bad day get the better of him. It’s just how it is. He didn’t cry, last night, but he was close, and one of these days he will cry in front of Sebastian. It’s coming, it’s only a matter of when. He compares Sebastian’s reaction to others, to other people he’s known and other romantic partners. To Eric, who looked like a deer in headlights the first time Chris had broken down in front of him, anxieties creeping up on him and taking the legs out from under him. Eric had hugged him awkwardly, and patted his back, and tried to distract him with a funny story so Chris would stop crying. He’d been trying to help, in his way. But he’d also been trying to end it as quickly as possible. Sebastian had kissed him, and given him space to talk about it, and given him arms to hide in when he couldn’t. Chris fell asleep feeling protected and understood. He’d woken up feeling unjudged and taken care of. He could have told Sebastian anything, anything at all, every single one of his deepest fears and his most painful negative thoughts, and Sebastian would have hugged him and let him feel it and then kissed it away.  
   
Chris has so much swirling in his head, about the kind of something his parents have, in words he’s afraid to say. The kind of something he’d thought maybe he’d never find, that maybe he wasn’t worthy of. That maybe after all these years of trying to find and always failing, maybe he was the problem, not everyone else. Sebastian soothes all of that away, and Chris doubts he even knows he’s doing it. He realizes, now, in far away retrospect, that it was never good with Eric. Chris hadn’t known about the cheating until the very end, but even when he thought things were good, they weren’t like this. A year into their relationship, it wasn’t like this, and it’s only been two months with Sebastian. If this thing between them does end up lasting, it if has the kind of legs Chris hopes it does, this might be a moment he reflects on down the road as a moment he figured out some really important things.  
   
Sebastian teaches a late class, and Chris is too in his head to be productive by just after 3PM, so he gets the duffel he keeps on the hook of his office door and heads for the gym. Push-ups and bicep curls get his blood pumping and his mind calmed. He finds exercise meditative. He gets earbuds in and turns up whatever indie rock group he’s into at any given moment and concentrates on form, and counting, and breathing, and it forces all the noise out of his brain. He’s sweaty and panting when he notices Anthony enter the facility through the sliding glass doors at the other end. He’s with a group of students – likely from the football team, laughing with them and pointing them off in the direction of various machines, giving them orders, but nicely. Chris doesn’t want to interrupt, but Anthony notices him and comes over, three of the students trailing after him.  
   
“Ooh, look out!” Anthony calls, loudly drawing attention to himself, fanning his face. “Professor God-damn Evans in the house with a couple’a lethal weapons.”  
   
“Hey, man.” He smiles, setting the weights down, and Anthony drags him into a one-armed hug. “I’m gonna get you all sweaty.”  
   
“I’m about to be all sweaty on my own anyway,” Anthony shrugs. “Look the fuck at you, holy hell. You hide all that under those dorky sweater vests?”  
   
“I own one sweater vest,” Chris returns with a laugh.  
   
“That is one too many, my man.” He points behind himself at the three students in turn. “Mike, Jared, Jeremy.”  
   
Chris nods at them, and recognizes Jeremy from one of his first year classes. The kid is taller than Chris and twice as broad, he must be a lineman. “How’s the essay coming?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, smiling when Jeremy’s eyes widen and for just a moment he looks panicked. “I’m kidding. Enjoy your workout.”  
   
“You’re straight jacked, Professor E,” Jeremy says, before whacking his teammate’s arm and wandering off with them in the direction of the free weights.  
   
“Straight jacked,” Chris repeats, watching them walk away. “I think that’s a compliment?”  
   
“Seabass is a lucky dude,” Anthony says to him, quieter so only the two of them can hear. “How’s that goin’? You two seemed pretty friendly at my house last week.”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris presses his lips together and looks down, but he knows how poorly he’s managing to hold back a shy smile. “It’s, uh. Really good. I really like him.”  
   
“Good to hear.”  
   
He looks up, knows he’s blushing, and Anthony smiles too, but then a funny look goes over his face, just for a second.  
   
“Are you about to give me the  _if you hurt my best friend_ speech?” Chris asks.  
   
Anthony raises an eyebrow. “Do I need to?”  
   
“No. Definitely got no intention of hurting him. I’m kinda nuts about him.”  
   
“I won’t, then.” His eyes brighten again.  
   
Chris nods. “Hey, I, uh … kinda feel like I owe you an apology.”  
   
Anthony frowns. “For what?”  
   
“We hung out a lotta times, before Sebastian and I … and I never told you, I wasn’t straight.” Chris feels guilty about it. He knows very well that he shouldn’t, but every time he keeps that secret, if feels like a lie, and he hates lying.  
   
Anthony steps in a little closer and shakes his head, putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Man, you don’t owe that to anyone. Tell the whole world if you want, but if you don’t? Fuck ‘em. It’s your business, no one is entitled to it.”  
   
“I still wish I’d told you,” Chris admits, although Anthony’s response makes him feel marginally better about it.  
   
“You’ve told me now.” Anthony nods his head like that’s that, matter closed. “I gotta go whip my boys into shape.”  
   
“Yeah, go ahead, Coach.” Chris waves him away.  
   
“Come over again soon. That was a fun night. I like seein’ Seb look so happy.” He winks, and jogs away, and Chris is left feeling warm inside.  
   
He showers and changes back into his slacks and sweater, and heads back to his office with his bag slung over his shoulder. There is a figure leaning against the wall next to Chris’s door, that once he gets a little closer down the hallway he recognizes as Sebastian, standing with his ankles crossed and staring down at his phone.  
   
“Hey there, hot stuff,” he says as a greeting, because they’re alone in the hallway and all the other office doors are shut.  
   
Sebastian looks up, and smiles at him. “I was just texting you.”  
   
“I was working out.” Chris holds up his bag as proof. “Knew you had a class this afternoon.”  
   
Sebastian raises his eyebrows, and gestures for Chris to come closer so he can feel his biceps. “I can definitely tell. You’re about point-two percent bigger than this morning.”  
   
Chris cracks up. He unlocks his office and pulls Sebastian inside, descending on him as soon as the door is closed and kissing him, pressing him up into the wood. He feels floaty, Sebastian’s hands on his hips and tongue against his lips, familiar taste, familiar feelings, the way he smells, soap and clean skin and sweet-scented hair products. Chris has been thinking about kissing him all day. He’s properly addicted at this point. Might never be able to fully wash Sebastian out of his skin. Might never want to.  
   
“What got you all riled up?” Sebastian asks with a breathless laugh, when Chris pauses the assault on his lips.  
   
“You,” Chris tells him, kissing him again.  
   
Sebastian blinks at him, eyes hooded and dark. His breath shudders when Chris pushes his thigh up, rubs it between Sebastian’s legs. “Let’s go home, then. Do somethin’ about it.”  
   
They stop at Sebastian’s building, just long enough for him to dash inside and feed his cat. Chris tries to say they can stay awhile, give him some attention since he’s been alone since the night before, but Sebastian insists he’ll be fine. Chris still feels bad, and is going to have to start asserting they spend the night at Sebastian’s apartment more often than they have lately. Sebastian comes to Chris’s house and gives endless pets and cuddles to Dodger, while his own furry friend is being neglected. Sebastian is upstairs for less than ten minutes while Chris waits in his truck, fingers tapping the steering wheel, fidgeting in his seat, skin crawling like he’s covered in ants. When Sebastian returns and hops back in, he looks as frazzled and off-kilter as Chris feels.  
   
Sebastian has slept at his house every night this week, Chris realizes as he has to drive past Sebastian’s car on the street to pull his truck into the driveway. He thinks about jokingly asking if Sebastian is ever planning on going home, but Sebastian might take that as Chris suggesting he  _should_  go home, and the truth is that’s the last thing Chris wants. It’s almost to the point that his bed feels empty without Sebastian in it. He’s always slept better with someone else, needing pillows to hug instead if he’s alone.   
   
As always, Dodger demands their attention as they enter Chris’s house, and as always, Sebastian kneels down instantly and gives it to him. “Hi, bud,” he says, rubbing Dodger’s head and letting his face be licked as Dodger squirms happily and greets him. He goes to Chris after a minute, expecting welcome-home pats from them both. Sebastian stands up and looks over, and Chris wants to grab him and rip his clothes off and drag him up the stairs like a caveman, but he heads to the kitchen first to fill Dodger’s bowl and let him out into the backyard. Sebastian follows him, leaning casually against the doorframe and watching. His arms are crossed, and one foot is crossed over the other, and it’s ridiculous how naturally sexy he can be while doing almost nothing. He’s a menace, Chris thinks. That suave could be weaponized.  
   
“Are you hungry?” he asks, as Dodger runs back inside and attacks his bowl.  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian answers, with a lopsided grin and a dangerous flash of his eyes. “But. Later. After.”  
   
_After_ , said so nonchalantly, as if he doesn’t understand how much he can unzip Chris with just a word, or a look, or a raised eyebrow. Chris is such a fumbling idiot around him sometimes, because Sebastian’s charm is effortless. One crook of his finger and Chris would be stumbling after him like a newborn colt who hasn’t quite learned to walk yet. This time, Sebastian just looks at him, the promise of something in his eyes, and Chris goes over to him. Sebastian’s hands go onto his hips, low enough to dip fingertips underneath his waistband, and blinks up at him, angelic and demonic all at once, and this man is going to be either his forever or his demise. Chris is ruined for anyone else. Already, after two months.  
   
Sebastian leans in, and his lips drag along Chris’s cheek, through his beard, barely there and just enough to feel. “You okay?” he asks, soft and somehow suggestive even though the words on their face aren’t.  
   
Chris blows out a heavy breath and laughs shakily. He puts his hands on Sebastian’s shoulders, gripping because he’s unsteady. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me,” he accuses. “The innocent act isn’t going to work.”  
   
Sebastian’s lips curve against his jaw, pressing almost a kiss to it and then dragging his nose along Chris’s neck instead. “No idea what you mean.”  
   
His fingers push up under Chris’s sweater to get at his bare skin, moving up his sides and around to his back, hot like brands but they leave Chris shivering. His tongue paints warm patterns over Chris’s neck, up toward his ear and then back down. He hums like Chris tastes good, and Chris feels it vibrate between them.  
   
“You’re fuckin’ … hazardous,” he mutters, arousal swirling thick and heavy in his veins, sending blood rushing in his ears, and elsewhere.  
   
“I could stop,” Sebastian tells him.  
   
“Or you could actually kiss me before my knees give out.”  
   
Sebastian’s smile is sinful and sweet at the same time, and he does, his lips sliding lightly against Chris’s, until Chris grabs his face and deepens it with a frustrated growl. Sebastian makes a surprised noise and then opens his mouth to let Chris inside. His fingernails dig into Chris’s back, holding on as Chris loses patience with teasing and sucks at Sebastian’s tongue. He pushes his hips forward, letting Sebastian feel him, and one of Sebastian’s hands drops to his ass to pull Chris in closer so he can grind his thigh into Chris’s groin.  
   
“Shit,” he breathes when Chris breaks the kiss to gasp for air, finally looking as overwhelmed as Chris feels.  
   
“Taste of your own damn medicine,” Chris returns, but smiles and kisses him again.  
   
“Take me upstairs,” Sebastian says, a clear challenge. “Show me a thing or two.”  
   
“You want me to throw you over my shoulder, because I fucking will.”  
   
“It might kill the mood if you drop me on my head.”  
   
Chris laughs, and the tension is broken a little. Beyond arousal and expectation, something like nerves had been fluttering in Chris’s stomach. It dissipates, and he hugs Sebastian to him. Sebastian’s face goes into his neck, and the kiss he leaves there is gentler, more playful.  
   
“You better have been thinking about me while you were working out this afternoon, and not all the other hot guys at the gym,” he teases.  
   
“What hot guys,” Chris scoffs. “It’s all students and geriatric profs trying not to die on a treadmill.”  
   
“Oh good, so I was your only option.”  
   
Chris grins into his hair and squeezes him. “Still wanna go upstairs?”  
   
“Unless you want me to blow you right here in the kitchen with your dog and probably the neighbors watching.”  
   
“Not the best idea,” Chris agrees. He kisses the tip of Sebastian’s nose, and takes his hand.  
   
Sebastian sits on the edge of Chris’s bed, still unmade from when they’d left it this morning. He gestures for Chris to come closer, and holds his hips again, pulling him in and pushing his face into Chris’s stomach. He’s warm, and Chris runs his hands through Sebastian’s hair, twisting the strands in his fingers. Sebastian undoes the button and zipper on Chris’s pants, pushing them down just enough so he can drag his lips over Chris through his boxers, the already interested flesh filling as Sebastian mouths at it. Chris closes his eyes, drowning in sensation, and lets Sebastian suck at him through the fabric until it’s damp. Then he pushes, gently, so Sebastian goes back onto the bed, moving backwards up until his head hits the pillows. Chris gets his pants off the rest of the way, and pulls his sweater over his head, and crawls up over Sebastian, settling on him so their lips can meet again. Sebastian’s hands curl around the back of his neck, tilting Chris’s head so he can explore his mouth. His legs fall apart to make room for Chris’s hips, so they’re pressed right against each other, no questioning whether either of them want this, even through layers of clothing. Sebastian looks up at him, eyes shining and lips parted and kissed-red, and Chris wants to tattoo the image behind his eyelids so he can see it every time he closes them.  
   
Planting a foot on the mattress, Sebastian rolls them over, so he tumbles on top of Chris and can kiss him again and rock into him. Chris slides his hand slowly down Sebastian’s back, pushing into his pants and cupping his ass. His fingers slip between the cheeks, toward all that heat, toward spots he hasn’t touched yet but has been dying to. The pad of his middle finger brushes, pressing lightly against the hole. “Can I?” he whispers.  
   
“Yeah.” Sebastian sighs, and Chris feels it against his cheek.  
   
“You can say no,” he reminds, just in case.  
   
“I know I can.” Sebastian nuzzles into him. “I want you to.”  
   
Chris moves his finger over the furl of muscle, petting in a circle and then pushing just the tip in. It’s so warm inside, and Sebastian’s body pulls him in. He moves his finger just barely side to side, starting to stretch it as he holds Sebastian close to him with his other hand buried in soft hair. After a moment he kisses the side of Sebastian’s face and nudges him gently.  
   
“Roll over. I’ll get what we need.”  
   
Sebastian nods and follows the direction, sliding off of Chris and onto the mattress beside him. Chris kisses him again before he gets up, heading for his closet, where he keeps condoms and lube in a shoebox. Sebastian is up off the bed and undressing when he turns back after shutting the overhead light off, bathing the room in blueish darkness, the light from the cracks in the curtains filtering in and leaving lines on the bed. Sebastian unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, folding it and placing it on the nightstand beside him. He looks a little lost, over there by himself, so Chris drops the condom packet and bottle onto the bed and goes over to him, wrapping arms around his waist and kissing him soundly.  
   
“You sure about this?” he checks.  
   
“Stop worrying.” Sebastian smooths out the frown on Chris’s forehead with the backs of his knuckles. “I want this, want you. Have since our first date.”  
   
“You never said …”  
   
“You wanted to go slow,” Sebastian says with a shrug.  
   
“You waited for me.” Chris rests his forehead against Sebastian’s, the thought filling him up inside.  
   
“Would’ve waited longer. But you want this, right?”  
   
“Yeah. So much. Want you to belong to me.”  
   
“Already do.”  
   
“I don’t have. Candles, or music, or anything to make it romantic,” Chris says regretfully.  
   
“Don’t need any of that.” Into his cheek, Sebastian says, “it’s sweet enough that you wish you did.”  
   
He takes Chris’s hand and guides it to the front of his pants, to the button at the top. Chris undoes it, and drags the zipper down, and pushes the material over Sebastian’s hips, his briefs going with it. Sebastian steps out of them, and helps Chris get out of his own underwear, and then pulls him back down into the bed. Fully bare against each other, Chris kisses him until his lips are numb, and rolls his hips down, happy little twinges caroming through him as he does. Sebastian reaches out to his side, groping around blindly until he locates what he’s searching for, and pushes the bottle of lube into Chris’s hand, silently confirming again that he wants what Chris wants, and maybe also saying  _hurry up_.  
   
Chris kisses down his chest. This much he’s done dozens of times. This time he goes lower, pushing his face between Sebastian’s legs, nuzzling into his balls from underneath, rubbing his beard over the sensitive skin on Sebastian’s upper thighs because he knows Sebastian likes that. He gently moves Sebastian’s legs apart further, making room for his shoulders, and pops the cap on the bottle in his hand. Sebastian’s stomach is moving as he breathes, a little heavier than normal. Chris places a kiss just below his bellybutton, and then takes the head of Sebastian’s cock into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it as he presses a slippery finger into him, slowly to the first knuckle, and then to the second when Sebastian takes it easily.  
   
“You don’t …” Sebastian loses his train of thought around a moan as Chris digs the tip of his tongue into the leaking slit of his cock, and then finds it again after a moment, “… have to go slow.”  
   
“Going to anyway,” Chris tells him, and isn’t willing to argue about it.  
   
He works his finger in all the way, arousal spinning inside him over the heat and the way Sebastian’s body draws him in further. He moves it, slowly in and out until the muscles loosen, and then works in a second. He bends them, searching for the spot inside and finding it, pushing against it as Sebastian’s stomach muscles clench and then he falls, breathless, back into the mattress.  
   
“Fuck,” he supplies, laughing a little, but not like it’s funny. Like he’s happy.  
   
“Feel good?” Chris asks. He already knows the answer.  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian sighs. Then he gets a troubled little look on his face and pushes up to his elbows so he can look at Chris properly. “Wait, you know, right? What that feels like?”  
   
Chris blushes a little, which is ridiculous given he currently has two fingers in Sebastian’s ass, but sometimes doing things is easier than talking about them. “Yeah. Not … mostly from … myself. Er – I mean, The Asshole, didn’t do it that much. To me, anyway.”  
   
Sebastian’s frown deepens, and he reaches down to brush Chris’s hair off his forehead. “I’m stuck between wanting to be mad at him for being such a dick, and turned on at the thought of you doin’ that to yourself.”  
   
Chris kisses the cut of muscle on Sebastian’s hip so he doesn’t have to look at him anymore, but smiles as he says, “Sometimes you gotta take matters into your own hands.”  
   
Humming, Sebastian keeps touching his hair. “You ever think about me, when you’re …?”  
   
“Yes,” Chris admits. His fingers still move in Sebastian, slowly in and out, spreading apart to stretch him. The muscles relax so nicely for him, but it’s still snug and it’s going to be nearly too much to handle, once Chris finally gets his cock into all that slippery heat.  
   
“What’d you think about?” Sebastian asks. His voice is low, and soft, and the way he’s looking at Chris is so intense.  
   
“This.” Chris licks up the underside of Sebastian’s cock where it’s laying against his abdomen, and finds his prostate again just to hear his breath hitch. “How you’d feel. How you’d look, coming with me inside you.”  
   
A quiet moan rumbles through Sebastian. “Get in me, then. You can see it in real life.”  
   
“One more finger.” Chris kisses his hip again and draws his hand back.  
   
“Fine. Hurry up.”  
   
“Pushy.”  
   
“Tease,” Sebastian returns, joking easily even though he looks fucked out already.  
   
Chris pushes a third finger in, hearing the way Sebastian’s breath stutters, discomfort for just a moment before it fades into pleasure. He takes Sebastian’s cock back in his mouth, sucking him harder now, twisting his fingers until Sebastian is pushing at his head and warning he won’t last if Chris doesn’t get to it. Chris slowly slides his fingers out and sits back on his heels, grabbing the condom. His fingers slip on the wrapper, and Sebastian sits up, his legs bracketing Chris’s body, and takes it from him. They don’t speak, but their eyes meet and something like heat but more visceral passes between them as Sebastian rips the packet open and rolls it down over Chris. He drizzles lube on him and spreads that around too, only breaking his intense gaze to flick his eyes down to Chris’s lips and then back up.  
   
“C’mon,” he urges, rubbing Chris’s bicep, sensing he’s unsure again, mixed in with all that desire.  
   
Chris nods and lays him down with a hand at the small of Sebastian’s back, tilting his hips forward and pressing in. The ring of muscle pulls his cock in, and he slides in slowly, kissing Sebastian as he does, listening intently for signs that it’s worse than just the initial burn. Sebastian breathes loudly, but pushes back against Chris, wanting him in deeper. He’s panting himself by the time he bottoms out, everything spinning nicely around him, intoxicated and dizzy and skin prickling. Sebastian’s breathing is shaky, and his nails are sharp in Chris’s shoulders.  
   
“I’m okay,” he says tensely.  
   
Chris shakes his head, and strokes Sebastian’s cheek; foreheads pressed together again and sharing moist air between them. He gets the distinct impression Sebastian is rushing him for the wrong reasons, and he isn’t okay with that. “Give it a minute. Just relax.”  
   
Sebastian does, after a moment, going pliant beneath him and his hands softening their grip on Chris’s arms.  
   
“Better?” Chris asks.  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian sighs. “You can move now.”   
   
“Maybe I don’t want to.” Chris’s voice sounds slurred in his own ears. “Maybe it’s nice bein’ all the way in like this, maybe I’ll just take a nap.”  
   
A soft laugh from below him tugs at Chris’s heart. He lifts his head up finally, blinking and looking into Sebastian’s eyes. He finds the blue nearly gone around blown pupils, and the whites glassy. But he smiles, as he says, “C’mon. Show me who I belong to, like you wanted.”  
   
Chris dips down to press his mouth into Sebastian’s as he draws his hips out, glacier slow, and then pushes back in. He thrusts shallow at first, letting Sebastian adjust to it and letting  _himself_ adjust to it, because it’s been a long time, and he’s so crazy about this man it makes everything brighter and more sparkly. He moves more, after a few minutes, pulling nearly all the way back and sliding forward, but still slow. He has no intention of rushing this. They have all night. And they have all the time in the world for quickies in the morning before work and rougher nights exploring each other and losing control and coming in shouts and spasmed muscles. This time, it means something, so Chris takes his time. He gets Sebastian moaning underneath him, soft little sounds drowned in pleasure and careful desperation. Sebastian’s legs around his waist anchor him to the moment, to the quiet creak of bedsprings and the stuttered sighs and Sebastian’s fingers in his hair.  
   
“Still doin’ okay?” he asks, after ages have past, days maybe, and he’s so delirious he isn’t sure what state he’s in anymore.  
   
“Are you not listening?” Sebastian asks with a fond, breathy chuckle.  
   
“You sound pretty happy,” Chris agrees. The thought thrills him.  
   
“Put me in your lap,” Sebastian requests, and Chris has to pause to breathe through the thought of it, stop himself from coming on the spot at just the visual that materializes in his head.  
   
He sits back on his heels again, helping Sebastian up and trading spots with him, propping pillows up against the headboard so he can sit and then guiding Sebastian to straddle him. He lifts up to his knees and Chris holds his cock steady so Sebastian can sink down onto it. He moans, as he’s sheathed back in all that tight warmth, and Sebastian doesn’t stop until he’s sitting on Chris’s thighs, his head hanging forward and his fingers squeezing Chris’s biceps.  
   
“Is that good?” Chris asks. His voice shakes, and he rubs Sebastian’s sides.  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian breathes. “Deeper, like this.”  
   
Chris feels his stomach lurch. He nudges Sebastian’s face up so they can kiss, slow and lazy as Sebastian relaxes into him. He murmurs into Sebastian’s lips, “Am I pressin’ it?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “Not quite.”  
   
“Move ‘till I am,” Chris instructs, lowering his hands so they’re on Sebastian’s hips.  
   
Sebastian tips forward just slightly and then cries out softly, and Chris swears.   
   
He squeezes with his fingers, helping Sebastian move his hips, not north and south but just grinding, so he’s moving inside. Their lips stay almost touching, breathing into each other’s mouths. He jerks his hips up a little so he bumps the spot inside, and the noise Sebastian makes is tiny and broken and beautifully obscene.  
   
“Just like this,” Chris tells him. He keeps one hand on Sebastian’s hip, and brings the other between them to play with his cock, stroking slowly and swiping his thumb over the head. “Keep doin’ that, want you to come like this, okay? So I can see you.”  
   
Sebastian nods. He looks drunk, his eyes glassy and his lips shiny and red, hair a mess from Chris’s fingers, a flush going all the way down his chest, leaving a pink tinge to his tanned skin.   
   
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Chris says to him, and feels like he could suffocate in how much he means it. He shifts the angle again, and Sebastian’s cock leaks and profanity spills from his mouth as Chris obviously rubs against the fireworks spot inside, not letting up.  
   
“Fuck, fuck,” Sebastian hisses, and Chris twists his wrist over the head of Sebastian’s cock.  
   
“Come for me,” he whispers, low and dirty, and Sebastian does, shooting in between them, some of it making it halfway up Chris’s chest, most spilling onto his abdomen. It seems to last forever, and it’s the sexiest thing Chris has ever seen, his own cock twitching and aching inside Sebastian, the muscle walls fluttering around it. Finally Sebastian slumps, boneless, into Chris’s arms, and Chris catches him and hugs him in close. Sebastian pants against him, breaths coming so sharply he almost chokes on them, and Chris rubs his back.  
   
“Shh,” he soothes. “Breathe, baby.”  
   
Sebastian moans, low in his throat.  
   
“What?” Chris smiles.  
   
“Never called me that before.”  
   
“You like it?”  
   
He nods, nose rubbing Chris’s neck.  
   
“I’ll do it lots, then.” Chris kisses his sweaty hair. “My sweet baby.”  
   
Sebastian’s exhales are shaky, but more even, after a few minutes. He moves his hips again, rolling, so Chris slips around inside of him. “How do you wanna …?”  
   
Chris closes his eyes and clenches his molars together. He’s been skirting the edge for so long, even that little bit of friction has his head spinning again. “Are you okay, if I …?”  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian sighs, and then his voice goes husky as he adds, “Fuck me.”  
   
Chris hears himself moan, fresh waves of arousal crashing over him, and he puts a hand at the base of Sebastian’s spine, plants one of his feet, and flips them back over. He thrusts into Sebastian’s body, loose and supple and warm, as Sebastian cries out between them and grips Chris’s back, nails digging into his skin. Chris comes quickly, a few hurried, panicked pushes of his hips and then he’s tipping over, falling into oblivion, filling the condom and grunting into Sebastian’s neck. Heavy limbs pull him down, melting into Sebastian’s chest, crushing him probably but for a minute Chris can’t move. A hand rubs his back, and words are being whispered to him, that he can’t hear properly but understands anyway. When he tries to get up, minutes later, Sebastian’s arms tighten around him.  
   
“Stay, just for a bit longer.”  
   
“I’m not leaving,” Chris answers. “I was just going to get us cleaned up.”   
   
“No, just … wait. I like you in me, just leave it for a minute,” his voice says, edging on begging.  
   
Chris frowns but settles back in, his body not complaining about it at all. After another minute his softening cock slips out by accident, so he tries to get up for the second time, and for the second time, Sebastian tightens his hold. Chris understands why, in an uncomfortable crash of emotion – understands this is the moment people usually leave and don’t come back.  
   
“Sebastian,” he says softly, nudging Sebastian’s cheek with his nose. “Look at me.”  
   
He does; liquid blue eyes finding his.  
   
“I’m not leaving,” Chris says again. He balances on one arm, so he can brush Sebastian’s cheek with his other hand. “We’re in my house, baby. I’m going to get a washcloth and throw the condom in the trash. I’m coming right back.”  
   
Sebastian nods, and releases him. Chris goes as quickly as he can, every second he’s away feeling like an hour too long. He ties the condom off and puts it in the wastebasket, always hating that part, and grabs a cloth from the drawer to soak with warm water. He wipes himself off, what the condom left behind and the smear of Sebastian’s come on his chest, and then rinses the cloth out again and goes back into the bedroom. He finds Sebastian still on his back, one arm resting over his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. He looks small and vulnerable and Chris hates it so much. He sits, next to Sebastian’s hip on the mattress, and drags the washcloth over Sebastian’s chest and stomach. He smiles at him, and relaxes a little inside when Sebastian smiles back. He misses when he tosses the cloth toward the laundry hamper, but doesn’t get up to correct the bad throw.  
   
Dragging the blankets up with him as he goes, he pulls Sebastian back into his arms and settles with him. “Fuck every single person who made you think you weren’t worth sticking around for. Every single one of them missed out on you.”  
   
“You know what that’s like,” Sebastian says, warm and soft in Chris’s arms.  
   
“Yeah. I do.”  
   
“Fuck them, too.” Sebastian kisses his neck.  
   
“We both deserved better.”  
   
As if it’s a response, Sebastian’s stomach growls, and they both laugh.  
   
“Dinner?” Chris suggests.  
   
“In a minute.”   
   
Chris keeps him close, and thinks in the morning he’ll find a way to slip a note into Sebastian’s briefcase. Something simple that he can find and read tomorrow, as he’s unpacking his laptop in his office.  _Last night was perfect, so happy I found you, be thinking about you all day_.  
   
*           *           *


	12. Chapter 12

Sebastian reads Chris’s note to Hayley on the phone. He gives no context for it, and then realizes he should have when she is understandably confused. “He left it in my bag, tucked into a notebook. Sticking out the top so I’d find it today.”  
   
“What was last night?” she asks; he can hear her smirking.  
   
“Figure it out,” is all he’ll offer by way of an explanation.  
   
“Two months? You two didn’t have sex for  _two months_.”  
   
“We did lots of other stuff. He has reasons, alright, and they’re good ones, and don’t make fun of him.” He knows how defensive he sounds, and he knows it wasn’t her intention to offend. He’s irrationally protective of Chris.   
   
“Darling.”  
   
“I know.” He sighs. “I know you weren’t, I’m sorry.”  
   
“This conversation is a disaster,” she laughs.  
   
“Your fault for going away. We’re better in person.”  
   
She’s in Toronto, until the day after tomorrow. Grad students are covering her classes, and Sebastian had promised to keep Anthony company. “Read it to me again.”  
   
Sebastian looks at it, in Chris’s surprisingly neat handwriting, that Sebastian realizes he hasn’t seen before now. “Last night was incredible. I’m happy every day that I found you.”  
   
She blows out a breath and then laughs again, sounding happy this time. “Unbelievably sweet.”  
   
“Right?”  
   
“He’s a keeper, or however that American expression goes.”  
   
“You do like him, right?” It’s more important than it probably should be, to Sebastian, that Hayley does.  
   
“I think he’s wonderful. And I think he’s mad about you.”  
   
“I hope so.”  
   
“I unfortunately have to say goodbye, but I’ll call you tomorrow in the morning.”  
   
“Not too early,” Sebastian says, and then feels himself blush as she clicks her tongue.  
   
“Oh, I see. Now that you have yourself a big naked man to cuddle with, you don’t want me disturbing you.”  
   
“Can you blame me?”  
   
“Not at all. Fine, you call me, whenever you’re up.”  
   
“I will. Bye, Hales.”  
   
“I love you. And I’m happy for you.”  
   
“Love you, too.” He hangs up, and sets his phone down, and goes back to staring dreamily at the note, which was what he’d been doing before she called.  
   
On cue, destiny, all sorts of silly fateful romanticisms, a knock at the door turns out to be Chris. Sebastian had straightened himself on his couch before he told the person they could come in, and then smiles and relaxes as Chris is the one who enters his office and closes the door behind him.  
   
“You found it,” Chris says, nodding toward the scrap of paper in Sebastian’s hand. “I wish I had nice stationary or something, instead of just ripped loose leaf.”  
   
Sebastian holds out his other hand, and Chris takes it and lets himself be pulled down onto the couch so Sebastian can kiss him. “I don’t know if I deserve you.”  
   
Chris gives him a pretend stern look, but underneath there’s softness and understanding. “Thought we were both going to work on believing we’re good enough.”  
   
“Yeah.” Sebastian nods, and had meant it more in an awestruck way than a self-deprecating way, but Chris is right, they have promised each other that, so he doesn’t argue.  
   
“You’re good, right?” Chris checks, rubbing his arms. “Not sore anywhere?”  
   
“I’m fine. You were …” He wants to say amazing, and fantastic, and so good it still makes Sebastian’s head spin to think about it. He settles on, “careful.”  
   
Chris brushes a barely-there kiss to his bottom lip. “Always will be.”  
   
Sebastian thinks briefly back to times when others weren’t, and knows he’s probably been guilty of the same. He’s never had a request to stop been ignored, but he also can’t remember many occasions where he’d outright requested to stop or to slow down, even when maybe part of him wanted to. He wishes he could say for sure that he’s never made anyone else feel that way, but he doesn’t know. When it’s just for one night, people don’t have to care about being kind to each other.   
   
He focuses back on Chris instead of dwelling on things he can’t change now. “That thing you said, about how your ex didn’t like doing … certain things.”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
“I hate that,” Sebastian admits. “Must’ve made you feel … undesirable.”  
   
Chris’s throat clicks over a swallow. Sebastian can’t see his eyes, with their foreheads tipped together, but he can stare down at their hands; fingers intertwined. Chris has lovely hands. “Sometimes.”  
   
“You aren’t. He was wrong. You’re so sexy I can’t think straight.”  
   
“Thanks,” Chris says softly, with what sounds like a smile on his face.  
   
“How about you let me prove it to you?” Sebastian asks; getting brave, starting to sound a little more like his old self, rather than the blushing nervous teenager Chris can turn him into. “Take me out tonight, then when we get home, let me lay you out on my bed and lick every inch of you.”  
   
Chris makes a small, broken sound in his throat. “Fuck.”  
   
“Maybe that, too.” Sebastian grins when Chris chuckles. It’s the oldest, most overused joke in the book, but it made Chris laugh. It lights him up inside, to make Chris laugh.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“What were you like as a kid?” Sebastian asks. He’s sitting next to Chris in a round corner booth at a Mexican restaurant, close enough to have his arm up on the back of the bench seat so he can run his fingers through Chris’s hair. He doesn’t usually initiate contact when they’re in public, wanting to let Chris set their pace, but Chris had gone to use the restroom just after they’d been shown to their table and he’d kissed Sebastian full on the lips before he went, saying goodbye to him even though he’d be back in minutes. So Sebastian figures it’s okay to touch, and Chris doesn’t seem to mind at all. He keeps closing his eyes and leaning into Sebastian’s hand, fully enjoying being petted in a restaurant where anyone could see.  
   
“Crying, mostly,” Chris says with a laugh. “I was scared of everything.”  
   
Sebastian smiles. “Like what?”  
   
“Like, everything. School and sleepovers and camp and tests and, just, anything even mildly stressful and I’d be in tears. I cried the first time I kissed a girl, because I was scared I did it wrong and she’d tell everybody. I was like 14, which is way too old to be crying over something like that.”  
   
It’s both endearing and sad all at once, and Sebastian kisses his shoulder. “Sensitive little heart.”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris looks at him, and then looks back down at the table, but he’s still smiling. “It hasn’t changed, much. Wait until we watch a Disney movie together. I’ll be weeping a half hour in.”  
   
“Okay, but, that one’s not entirely on you,” Sebastian reasons. “Pixar’s business model is structured solely around making us all wish we were dead.”  
   
“I saw Coco in the theater last year with my sister’s kids. I was crying basically the whole movie. They weren’t.” He’s making a joke of it, mocking himself, and Sebastian wishes he wouldn’t. He wishes Chris knew how nice that quality is. Too many people he’s known harm themselves daily by bottling up their emotions – Sebastian knows it too well, since he’s one of them.  
   
“That’s really sweet,” he says, brushing his fingers through Chris’s hair one more time and then letting his hand rest on the back of Chris’s neck, fingers massaging gently.  
   
“You say that now. Wait until I’m blubbering in your lap because Mufasa died and Simba is all alone. You might feel different.”  
   
Sebastian leans in and kisses his cheek. “No, I won’t.”  
   
Chris turns his head so their lips can meet. At the same moment, an older couple walks past their table, and Sebastian hears the woman sniff disapprovingly. He tenses automatically, but Chris holds his elbow and whispers, “Doesn’t matter.”  
   
Sebastian swallows. “I know.”  
   
Usually he’d be the one saying that, to calm a Chris bristling at the confirmation of insecurities, and he finds himself swelling with pride at the progress Chris has made.  
   
“Speaking of – that. Has it got around at work yet? That you and I are …”  
   
“Not that I’ve heard.” Sebastian’s hand settles on Chris’s chest, playing with the silky fabric of his green tie. “It will, though. If we keep kissing goodbye in the hallways. Do you mind?”  
   
Chris shakes his head. “It’s allowed, though, right? We aren’t going to get in trouble or anything?”  
   
“Hayley and Anthony are married,” Sebastian reminds him.  
   
“I know, but they’re in wildly different departments. They never even see each other on campus. Not quite the same.”  
   
“It’s allowed. Faculty dating isn’t a problem, it’s when there’s a power imbalance. Neither of us are the other’s boss, or are tenured, or on discipline committees, or anything like that.”  
   
“You should be.”  
   
“Tenured?” Sebastian asks.  
   
Chris nods.  
   
“I’ve only been here three years. It’s a bit soon for them to decide I’m indispensable.”  
   
“Is Hayley?”  
   
“Yes. She’s been here for seven, though, and she’s the grad chair.”  
   
“Oh, I didn’t know it had been that long.”  
   
“One of the reasons I took the job, when there was an opening. She was too far away when I was at Penn.”  
   
The waiter approaches and politely interrupts their conversation, taking their drink orders. Sebastian moves a bit away from Chris, not trying to hide them, just not needing to be pressed right up against him while the girl is trying to do her job. When she leaves, Chris moves back in; wanting to be close. Sebastian turns back into him and smiles.  
   
“I love that you have her,” Chris says, pressing play on their paused conversation. “Everyone needs someone in their corner.”  
   
“Do you have someone like that?”  
   
“My family. Scott. He’s always been my best friend.” Chris’s throat clicks as he swallows, and he glances down at Sebastian’s chest. “Can’t tell him everything, though.”  
   
“Don’t do that to yourself.” Sebastian tilts Chris’s face back up with a crooked finger under his chin, and kisses him lightly. “You will. When you’re ready, you will.”  
   
Chris nods, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
   
“We always do this. Always end up talking about heavy things.” Sebastian brushes Chris’s cheek. “Tell me something funny.”  
   
“Okay. Um.” Chris thinks for a second and then laughs softly. “When I was … probably about 12, I tricked Scott into peeing his pants.”  
   
Sebastian stares at him. “What?”  
   
Chris laughs again, his shoulders moving like the story still amuses him, all these years later. “We were playing outside, and we both had to go but we didn’t want to bother going in, so I told him I was just gonna go in my pants and that he should too. He did, but obviously I didn’t, and then our babysitter drove up, and she was super hot and we both had a crush on her, and he’d just pissed himself.”  
   
“Oh my God,” Sebastian laughs, but also shoves Chris’s arm. “That’s so mean!”  
   
“I know,” Chris says, but still giggles. “I should probably feel bad about it.”  
   
“You clearly don’t.”  
   
“I do a bit, but it’s still funny.”  
   
“I’m sort of happy I’m an only child, if that’s the kind of shit siblings do to each other,” Sebastian says, but he’s laughing too. Mostly because Chris is, and his happiness is contagious.  
   
Chris stays close all evening, as they share enchiladas and frozen margaritas, and he puts his arm over the back of Sebastian’s seat in the movie theater. Like he’s proving a point to himself, he almost never stops touching; wiping sauce off Sebastian’s lip with his thumb and holding Sebastian’s hand as they walk to the car and kissing him in the parking lot. Sebastian feels like he’s glowing under the attention, and loves Chris being unashamed and wanting to show them off. They hold hands as they’re driving home as well; Sebastian steering his car with his left and surrendering his right to Chris to hold and squeeze and bring up to his lips. He keeps looking over, eyes full of intent, maybe planning in his head what they’ll do once they get to Sebastian’s apartment, but Sebastian already has that sorted. He’s running the show tonight, and has every intention of proving a couple points he’s been fighting in his head against all the people who ever made Chris feel unworthy.  
   
He turns left at a four-way stop, and movement on the sidewalk catches his eye. He realizes at the same moment Chris does what they’re looking at – a woman being pushed up against a tree, roughly held there by the man, struggling and fighting back against him but not strong enough to push him all the way off. She’s trying, and he’s violently holding her down and trying to tear at her clothes.  
   
“What the fuck,” Chris says loudly, as Sebastian’s instincts take over and he abruptly pulls the car over to the shoulder and throws it into park. Chris unbuckles his seatbelt and springs out before the car even stops moving, shouting at the man, who sprints away in the opposite direction when he sees Chris. For a second Chris looks like he’s going to chase the guy down, but he doesn’t. Sebastian gets out of the car in time to take note of the clothes and general height and build of the assailant, but not much else. He never gets a good look at his face. His heart races uncomfortably in his chest.  
   
The woman –  _girl_ , when Sebastian looks closer, she’s young –  is motionless against the tree, crying softly, until Chris approaches her with one hand out, not wanting to scare her and worsen the situation.  
   
“Are you alright?” Chris asks her, his voice cracking over the words. When she turns to them, Sebastian’s stomach drops as he recognizes her.  
   
She recognizes Chris, first. Her face is streaked with tears, and her mouth falls open. “Professor Evans?”  
   
Chris’s face goes white, and he was already pale. “Kayla, oh my God. Are you …?”  
   
She sort of crumbles, head and shoulders going down, shaking like she’s trying to fight it but then can’t. Chris moves in closer and she and she collapses into him, her body folding like she’s made of paper. He holds her up, hugging her as she cries into his chest, and sending a terrified look at Sebastian over the top of her head. Sebastian stays where he is, unmoving next to the driver’s side door. He’s paralyzed in uncertainty, not knowing what they should do.  
   
“Hey, it’s okay,” Chris soothes, rubbing her back, clearly caught between wanting to comfort her, and understanding that he’s her teacher and he shouldn’t be touching her at all, let alone holding her like that. “We’ve got you, you’re safe now.”  
   
“Did you know that guy, or did he just …?” Sebastian asks.  
   
She manages to turn briefly to look at him, and belatedly recognizes him too, and that makes her cry harder, out of shock or maybe embarrassment. “My boyfriend,” she sobs, her face going back into Chris’s cloth black coat.  
   
“Can you tell us what happened?” Chris requests gently.  
   
“I don’t know.” Her voice wavers, stutters over tears that shake her shoulders. “We were walking home. He said he wanted … and I said not yet, I’ve never … and then he just grabbed me, and …”  
   
“Okay,” Chris cuts in, rubbing her back again, not wanting to make her spell it out for them when they witnessed what happened next. “Let’s get into the car, alright? It’s cold.”  
   
He leads her over to Sebastian’s sedan, opening the back door for her, and after a moment of hesitation, climbing into the back seat with her. She’s still crying heavily, breath catching and chest heaving with the effort of it, and she ends up right back in Chris’s arms as soon as he has the door closed behind him. He doesn’t hesitate this time, just hugs her. Sebastian gets back into the driver’s seat, but twists around in it to look at them. Chris looks near tears himself; blue eyes wide and shiny and desperately sad as his hand cups the back of her head.  
   
“Has he done this before?” Sebastian asks, somewhat knowing the answer before she nods.  
   
Her tears are slowing, and she hiccups as she answers. “Last time he stopped. But we were in my room, maybe … he was worried my roommates would hear.”  
   
Chris swears under his breath, and tells her, “we’ll go to the police, if you want. In the morning. We’ll give witness reports.”  
   
It upsets her, but she sits up and wipes at her face. “I have to, don’t I?”  
   
“You don’t have to. But he shouldn’t get away with this.” Chris looks at Sebastian, and then back to Kayla. “Is he a student?”  
   
She nods.  
   
“He should be expelled, then. This isn’t okay.”  
   
“I know.” She leans forward, burying her face in her hands. “He said he was sorry. Last time. I believed him. I’m so fucking stupid.”  
   
“No, you aren’t.” Chris touches her head again, smoothing his hand over her hair. He sniffs, and blinks like he’s trying to keep the tears at bay. “Can we take you home?”  
   
“Okay,” she answers miserably, and then inhales sharply and looks up; wild, dark eyes connecting with Sebastian’s first and then turning to Chris. “No. I live at Bingham Hall, and so does he. He’ll be there.”  
   
“Shit,” Chris mutters.  
   
“Is there someone you could stay with?” Sebastian asks. “Friends, family?”  
   
She shakes her head, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m from Texas, I don’t have family here. And all my friends are in student housing.”  
   
Sebastian looks at Chris, silently asking him what they should do, and sees just as much uncertainty in Chris’s eyes as he’s sure is in his own. He doesn’t know what to do either. They could go to the police now instead of tomorrow morning, but then she’d end up spending the night at the precinct, and after what she’s been through, Sebastian doesn’t want to make it worse. She deserves to stay somewhere that she can feel safe, so she can face tomorrow having gotten at least a few hours sleep. Chris sort of squints at him, and nods down at her, like he’s trying to ask something with just his face. Sebastian thinks he understands, and he nods his affirmative. They maybe shouldn’t. It probably isn’t appropriate, probably will get them in all kinds of trouble. But he doesn’t know what else to do. Nobody from the university would answer an email or a phone call after 10pm on a Friday, if they reached out to ask about proper protocol. And they can’t send her back to the dorms where her boyfriend could easily get to her.  
   
“I have a spare bedroom,” Chris tells her. “You can stay with me tonight, alright?”  
   
“Oh. You don’t have to …” she protests, but it’s weak.  
   
“It’s no problem,” Chris assures. “Really. I mean, if you don’t want to I completely understand, but you’re welcome to.”  
   
“Okay.” She sniffs and exhales shakily. “Thank you.”  
   
“Of course.” Chris rubs her arm; and with the decision made, Sebastian puts the car into gear and changes course, pulling a U-turn and heading to Chris’s house instead.  
   
Chris still doesn’t have furniture in his extra bedroom, so he pulls an air mattress and a pump out of a closet and starts filling it; apologizing for it, but she smiles a little and says she goes camping every summer with her family and is used to air mattresses. It’s the first time she’s looked less than distraught since they came across her on the side of the road. Sebastian texts his next-door neighbor and asks her to feed his cat. Then he goes to the kitchen and gets Kayla a bottle of water and a box of Kleenex, and unplugs a lamp from the living room to set up on the floor next to her makeshift bed. He finds a set of sheets from the closet in the hallway, and a pillow from Chris’s bed. Chris is woefully unprepared for overnight guests, but they’ll make do. It’s reckless of her to trust them when she knows almost nothing about either of them outside of whether they’re decent lecturers or easy markers, so Sebastian wants her to be as comfortable as she can be, given the circumstances.  
   
“Bathroom’s on the first floor,” Chris tells her. “Bottom of the stairs and to your right.”  
   
She nods. Dodger is seated at her feet, looking up at her with his big brown eyes. He’s been glued to her since they entered the house, as if he knows she’s in extra need of attention and comfort. She pats his head and he leans into her hand.  
   
“Do you need anything else?” Sebastian asks, and she shakes her head.  
   
Kayla sits on the air mattress, and Dodger tries to climb into her lap.  
   
“Feel free to kick him out,” Chris says. “Otherwise he’ll sleep on your head.”  
   
“He can stay,” she says quietly, scratching his ears and smiling again as he licks her cheek.  
   
“Anything you want from the fridge or the bathroom or, wherever else, help yourself. If you can’t sleep you can go downstairs and watch Netflix or whatever, even if it’s the middle of the night. Don’t worry about it. Oh.” Chris gets a look on his face like he’s had a thought, leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a phone charger that he hands to her. “Here. Maybe call your Mom? Let her know you’re okay?”  
   
Kayla nods again, and she looks something adjacent to calm as she looks up at them. “Thank you.”  
   
“Of course.” Chris brushes it off like it’s nothing, but it isn’t nothing. When Sebastian takes a second to stop being worried about their impromptu guest, he’s bowled over by Chris. By his kindness and by how much he cares.  
   
They say goodnight and head across the hall to the master bedroom. As soon as the door closes behind them, Chris’s composure breaks a little, and he swears again and pushes his hair back off his forehead, looking at Sebastian with a devastated expression on his face. Sebastian wishes he had words to make it better.  
   
“They have to find him,” Chris says, and it takes Sebastian a second to work out he’s referring to the police. “He has to be charged, and … kicked out of school, and she needs a restraining order.”  
   
“They will,” Sebastian assures him. He goes to Chris, taking his hands and bringing them up to his lips. “It’s not like he’s some stranger in an alley, she knows him. She knows where he lives. They’ll arrest him tomorrow.”  
   
“You’ll come, right? To the station in the morning?” Chris looks so worried, and it stings Sebastian a little to think there was ever any doubt in Chris’s mind that he would.  
   
“Of course I will. Hey.” He touches Chris’s cheek, and kisses the corner of his mouth. “We’re going to sort this out, alright? I promise.”  
   
“You don’t have to stay. If … we can pick you up in the morning.”  
   
Sebastian pauses and his insides twist around each other. “Do you … not want me here?”  
   
“No, I … fuck, of course I do, I’m  …” Chris’s eyes close and he drops his head down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”  
   
“It’s okay.” Sebastian runs gentle fingers through Chris’s hair. “You’re upset, it’s okay.”  
   
Chris hugs him, but briefly. He moves away, loosening his tie and taking it off, followed by the cardigan and button-up shirt he’d been wearing underneath. Sebastian follows suit, finding the t-shirt he’s been borrowing to sleep in on the chair where he left it the other day. Shirtless and in flannel pyjama pants, Chris heads for the private bathroom in his bedroom, and Sebastian follows him wordlessly. Something bigger is coming, he can sense it. Chris has a very precarious hold on his emotions right now, and Sebastian can feel in the air between them that it’s about to shatter. He’s terrified he won’t be any good at this – at holding Chris together if he’s breaking.  
   
Chris grabs his toothbrush and sets it on the counter. He reaches for the toothpaste, and his hands tremble as he fumbles with the cap. He squeezes paste onto his toothbrush, and then can’t get the cap back on. He tries, over and over with shaking fingers, but it keeps slipping. Sebastian’s heart might be breaking. He reaches out slowly and takes the tube away from Chris, and Chris swears again and tips his head forward, leaning over with his hands squeezing the counter, knuckles going white. Sebastian touches him, rubs his arm and his back until Chris will look at him, and there are tears in his eyes, big and blue and miserable.  
   
“Come here,” Sebastian says gently, grateful when Chris allows himself to be folded into Sebastian’s arms. “You saved her. You helped.”  
   
“She’s not going to be okay.” Chris’s voice trembles like his hands.  
   
“Not tomorrow,” Sebastian agrees. “Probably not this week. But eventually, she will.”  
   
“What if we hadn’t got there in time?”  
   
“Don’t think about that. We did get there in time.” Wetness hits his shoulder, soaking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt. Chris cries quietly into his shoulder, and Sebastian leads him out of the bathroom. “Come on. We won’t die if we go to sleep one night without brushing our teeth.”  
   
Chris lets himself be corralled toward the bed, and Sebastian helps him into it. He shuts the light off and climbs into the other side, pulling Chris back into his arms as soon as the sheets are pulled up over their shoulders. Chris sniffs, and hides his damp face in Sebastian’s neck.  
   
“You really feel things, don’t you?” Sebastian asks quietly, petting Chris’s hair. “Way bigger than most people do.”  
   
“Yeah,” Chris answers, sounding ashamed of it. “Sorry, I know it’s a lot. I try not to be so dramatic about everything.”  
   
“No. Don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry for one second. It’s such a nice quality, Chris. I don’t want you to hold it back.” Sebastian nudges Chris’s face up with his own so he can kiss the tears off his cheeks, and then kisses his lips. Just a hint of a smile passes over Chris’s mouth, but he still snuggles in and clings a little harder than he normally would, and Sebastian is in love with him.  
   
He’s deeply, madly, hopelessly in love. On some level he’s know it for weeks, but now it yells out to him like a neon sign. Flashing and glaring and impossible to ignore. It’s so beautiful that Chris is this upset for someone else, that he was so sweet to her, that he wants so badly to help her and protect her. That this man is big and strong but is so small right now in Sebastian’s arms; trusting him with all his simmering emotions, hiding against Sebastian’s chest when the world is too cruel to face, putting that golden heart in Sebastian’s hands and trusting him not to break it, after it’s already been broken so many times. Sebastian loves him, like a poem, like a Hallmark card, like a Frank Sinatra song. He loves Chris’s eyes and his hands and his laugh and his mind, loves Chris’s insecurities and anxieties, loves Chris joking with Anthony, loves him charming Hayley, loves him caring so much about his students and his dog and his family. It isn’t the right moment to say it. Not when Chris is sad, not when they’re both grappling with having stopped an assault, not when a young female student is in the next room trapped in what’s likely the worst night of her life. But Sebastian feels it. He feels it so strongly his heart might burst.  
   
*           *           *


	13. Chapter 13

“We have a copy of the police report. You should review it, before we begin.”  
   
Chris shakes his head. “I know what it says. I was there when it was filed.”  
   
Three people sit behind a table, two women and a man, staring back at him as he shifts uncomfortably in a small plastic chair. He’d been introduced to them, when he came into the room. He’s already forgotten the man’s name. The woman in the center is the one who addresses him. She’s a human resources co-ordinator of some kind. The other two are fellow professors. She holds up the paper, and then holds it out, offering it to him, but making no move to get up and take it to him. If Chris wants it, he’s going to have to go to her.  
   
“Please review it,” she repeats, not asking him to.  
   
Chris takes the few steps to reach her and takes the page from her hand, glancing at it as he goes back to his chair. It details the events of Friday night, Kayla’s thorough statement and the collaborating statements from both Chris and Sebastian. It also details what happened after, and the after is why Chris finds himself on Monday afternoon before a panel of members of the discipline committee, to decide how to deal with the way Chris handled the situation. The university isn’t happy about it. Chris isn’t entirely surprised, but had hoped they could have avoided this, given the exigent circumstances.  
   
“Is all the information correct?” the middle woman asks. She’d introduced herself as Mrs. Hacker. She’s at least 70, with grey hair drawn back into a knot behind her head and large glasses. She has an intimidating glare. If Chris were making a claim of harassment against someone else, he wouldn’t want this to be the person he’d have to talk to about it. There is nothing kind or understanding about the way she arranges her face.  
   
“It is,” Chris confirms.  
   
“This is not a formal discipline hearing, Professor Evans. This is an informal preliminary meeting, during which we hope to ascertain the facts of this case so that we can decide how to proceed.”  
   
“Okay.”  
   
“Did you engage in inappropriate physical contact with Ms. Maxwell this past Friday evening?”  
   
Chris feels his stomach drop, like missing a step in the dark. “Right out of the gate swinging, okay. No, I didn’t.”  
   
“Did you engage in any physical contact with Ms. Maxwell?”  
   
“I hugged her. Because she was crying.”  
   
A brief scribble of pen on paper. “Can you describe the nature and duration of this hug?”  
   
Chris wants to scream at them. He knows they’re just doing their jobs, he  _knows_ it, but it doesn’t make him feel better about being interrogated for helping someone. He doesn’t appreciate the implication that he would have hurt her, or pressured her into something she didn’t want. “A minute, maybe? Two? However long it took her to stop sobbing.”  
   
“And the nature of it?”  
   
“I really don’t know what that means,” Chris answers, honestly. “It was a hug. The kind of hug you give someone when they’re crying. I didn’t cop a feel, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”  
   
“We are not suggesting anything,” Mrs. Hacker says, in short, clipped tones. “We are asking for your account of what happened. Politely, if you don’t mind.”  
   
Chris grits his teeth, feeling like a chastised child. He gives her what she asked for, anyway. “Sebas – Professor Stan and I were driving back from the movie theater on Temple Street. We saw an altercation taking place, on the side of the road. We didn’t know at that point who the people were, we just saw a man pushing a woman into a tree, and her struggling. Professor Stan pulled the car over to the curb and we got out, and the man ran away. That’s when we recognized Kayla.”  
   
“Are you in a romantic relationship with Professor Stan?”  
   
“Yes,” Chris answers. It comes out more combative than he’d meant it to, because he’s panicking. So many things are on the line; teetering on the edge, where in one direction everything will be fine but if they fall the other way, disaster. For him, for Sebastian, maybe even for Kayla, and she’s who he’d meant to protect in all this. Notwithstanding, if this blows up further than it already has and ends up in the news, Chris will be outed to his family before he’s ever worked up the courage to do it himself. He’s not sure Scott would ever forgive him, if he finds out Chris’s sexuality in a tweet about how he lost his job for misconduct.  
   
“And according to the police report, he also spent the night at your residence.” An eyebrow raises over purple-framed glasses.  
   
“Is that relevant?” Chris asks. He knows it is. He just wants her to say  _why_ it is. Wants the tribunal they’re putting him through to have to admit why it matters if he’s sleeping with Sebastian.  
   
She puts the paper down in front of her and regards him exasperatedly, like he’s a petulant student in trouble for plagiarism. “It’s relevant if you had intercourse in the room next to one of your students, Mr. Evans.”  
   
Chris bristles. He’d been expecting that, but the accusation still stings. “No, we didn’t fuck in the next room.”  
   
“Language, please.”  
   
“You just accused me of forcing a traumatized 18 year old girl to listen to two of her teachers having sex through a wall, and you’re offended that I used a dirty word to describe it.”  
   
“Mr. Evans.”  
   
“Would you have asked that question if I was dating a female faculty member?”  
   
She doesn’t answer, but her expression remains tired, and disapproving, so he gets his answer anyway. He files that away, for potential use later, if he needs it for leverage. He notices that he’s  _Mr._ Evans all of a sudden; the courtesy of professional titles dropped along with the pretense that he deserves their respect. He has the urge to make them call him  _Dr._ Evans. It seems apt, given that he has four degrees.  
   
Instead, he calmly states, “Professor Stan and I did not engage in intercourse that night. I don’t recall making physical contact with him of any kind in front of her, I don’t think I so much as held his hand. He will corroborate that. As will she, if you think it’s right to interrogate her too, after everything she’s been through.”  
   
Mrs. Hacker folds her hands in front of her, and looks to both her sides, exchanging pointed glances at the man to her left and the woman to her right. The man speaks next, slowly beginning his sentence with, “Mr. Evans.”  
   
Chris’s hold on his patience breaks, and he does snap, “Dr. Evans.”  
   
A sigh, and then, “as you wish. Dr. Evans. I trust that, since as you point out, you do hold a doctoral degree, you are able to comprehend that this was inappropriate. That a teenaged, female student spending the night at the home of two male professors is not something this institution can condone.”  
   
“But you can condone sexual assault?” Chris asks. He’s being a brat and he knows it, but can’t seem to help himself. Anger is barely simmering in his chest and threatening constantly to boil over.  
   
“That is a different matter,” Mrs. Hacker says, taking the conversation over again from her colleagues. “That student will be dealt with, separately, and is not of your concern. He is still in police custody, as I’m sure you are aware. Do not suggest we are taking any of this lightly. He  _will_ be dealt with.”  
   
“He should be expelled,” Chris asserts. “Do whatever you want with me, fire me if you have to, but if that kid gets to stay here after what he did, I will not keep my mouth shut about it. I will be on CNN  _tomorrow_ exposing – ”  
   
“Chris.”  
   
He turns his eyes to the third member of the panel. He knows her, a little. She works with Hayley. “Alice,” he responds, curtly, and then regrets it when her voice remains gentle.  
   
“It doesn’t help, at this stage in the proceedings, to be threatening things like that,” she says kindly. “None of this is a done deal. Nothing is being swept under the rug, you have my word on that. We are doing our jobs, we are trying to get to the bottom of what happened, here. Could you please just tell us that?”  
   
Chris swallows, and feels his sense of righteous injustice cool, just a little. He addresses her, and ignores the others. “I honestly didn’t know what else to do. Of course I know it’s not appropriate for a student to spend the night at my house. That thought crossed my mind 50 times that night. I just didn’t see any other options. It was the middle of the night. She was hysterical. She seemed pretty confident he would have raped her if Sebastian and I hadn’t shown up when we did. The guy lives across the hall from her in the dorms, we couldn’t send her back there. She had no where else to go. That’s the truth, alright? If a better solution had presented itself to me, I would have taken it.”  
   
“Why didn’t you immediately go to the police?” the man asks.  
   
“What could they have done, at midnight?” Chris reasons. “She still couldn’t have gone back to Bingham Hall until they caught her boyfriend. Did you want me to leave her alone to sleep on the floor of an interrogation room at the police station?”  
   
No one answers him.  
   
“She deserved a chance to get her legs under her before she faced going to the cops. Nobody forced her to do anything, I swear that’s the truth. I offered her my spare bedroom for the night and told her we’d go to the police with her in the morning, which we did. I made it abundantly clear she could refuse if she didn’t want our help. The door to the bedroom she slept in locks from the inside, if you need proof of that, you’re welcome to send the cops to my house to check it out. Sebastian and I slept in my room. No one touched anybody inappropriately, all parties were fully clothed the whole time we were in each other’s presence. I get that this wasn’t ideal, but I really didn’t know what else to do. She needed help, and I helped her. Isn’t that part of my job? Isn’t protecting these kids part of  _our_ responsibility?”  
   
“You job description does not include sleepovers with female students,” Mrs. Hacker says coldly, but Alice interrupts her.  
   
“Sarah,” she says imploringly, and then to Chris, says, “thank you for your honesty. We will be speaking to Professor Stan, and to Ms. Maxwell. If their stories match with yours … we’ll go from there. I can’t give you more information than that right now, I’m sorry.”  
   
“Am I done?” Chris asks, and she nods at him.  
   
“For now. We’ll be in touch.”  
   
He gets up, picks his messenger bag off the ground and slings it over his shoulder. As he reaches the door, he pauses with his hand on the knob and turns back to them. “I understand you have a job to do. But if you really believe there’s even a possibility I’m the kind of person who would lure a teenager back to my house after she’d been assaulted, so that  _I_  could assault her too … you should fire me. If you have to question whether that’s who I am, I should never have been hired in the first place.”  
   
“We have no ability to fire you, Dr. Evans,” the man says. Mrs. Hacker look almost disappointed about it, and Alice looks pained. “We are conducting an investigation. After it’s complete, we will turn a report over to the proper authorities. That’s all we can say at this time.”  
   
Chris wants to throw a book at him. He leaves the room, and manages to keep from storming out and slamming the door behind him.  
   
*           *           *  
   
He gets an informal reprimand, three days later when the committee manages to come to the reluctant conclusion that he’d acted acceptably given the unusual circumstances. Sebastian does, too. Chris doesn’t care for one moment about a mark on his own file, but he’s furious with himself for getting one on Sebastian’s. He’s promised, emphatically, by Sebastian that he doesn’t care either. It is unlikely to affect them seriously in the future, beyond a few sideways looks Chris begins to get in the hallways when gossip travels around campus. He gets praise, as well. Several other professors, mostly female, approach him to tell him the discipline committee is wrong, and he’s a hero. Chris doesn’t agree with them quite that far, but appreciates the support.  
   
Kayla visits him, in his office on Thursday afternoon after their class. Her boyfriend has only been suspended, at that point, but still hasn’t been released by the police, so she’s safe on campus, for now. Chris doesn’t know what he’ll do if the guy is allowed to come back. He’s a bit worried for his own potential reaction.  
   
“You got in trouble, didn’t you?” Kayla asks. Her voice is so small, and she looks close to tears.  
   
“I little bit,” Chris nods. “But that is not your fault.”  
   
“They asked me so many awful questions.” She sniffs, and tears do spill over. “Trying to find out if you’d done something to me.”  
   
Chris gets up, and moves out from behind his desk. He sits next to her instead, in the second chair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, after everything else. They had to make sure I didn’t hurt you, too. It’s not fair to you, but they had to.”  
   
“I know.” She wipes her eyes, and looks up at him, sadness still swimming in them. “You and … Professor Stan. You’re …”  
   
Chris nods again. “We are.”  
   
“Was it a secret, until now?” she asks, sounding miserable about it. “Did you get outed because of me?”  
   
It feels like Chris’s lungs just fell out of his body and crashed down three floors. He shouldn’t touch her, he’s already in enough hot water for the last hug, but he can’t sit here and let her believe there’s even a shadow of truth to her words. He puts his hand on her forearm, and rubs gently. “No. Listen to me. Absolutely not. A few more people know about us now than last week, but it was never a secret. And even if it was, and it had gotten out because of this, n _one_ of that would be your fault. There are a lot of people at fault for this mess, but you are not one of them.”  
   
She nods, and doesn’t look entirely like she believes it.  
   
“Have you been to talk to someone?” he asks. “There are councillors on campus. Take their help, if you think you need it.”  
   
“I don’t know if I can talk about it.”  
   
“I’ve been to see therapists,” Chris tells her, smiling at her when she looks up at him. “It doesn’t make you weak. It is strength, to take care of yourself. We all need help sometimes.”  
   
She nods, and concedes, “Maybe I will.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
“We made it through the week from hell.” Sebastian bumps Chris’s hip, as they load dinner dishes into the dishwasher together. Sebastian’s cat curls around Chris’s legs, and he bends down to rub his hand over long, soft fur.  
   
“Not entirely unscathed.”  
   
“I’m not scathed,” Sebastian says, and reaches for Chris when he makes a face. “Hey. I told you I don’t care. Please believe me. I’m not planning on looking for another job any time soon, and even if I do? I don’t think getting a reprimand for saving a student from assault looks too terrible on a resume.”  
   
“I still wish you weren’t caught up in it.”  
   
“I  _wasn’t_ caught up in it. I was willingly, consentingly part of it.” Sebastian brushes Chris’s hair back off his forehead. “You don’t get to eat up all the blame on this one. It’s on me too. And I wouldn’t do anything differently, if I could go back.”  
   
“Me neither.”  
   
“Can you do something for me?”  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“I want you to go have a nice, long shower. Towels are in the linen closet next to the bathroom. Soap and shampoo and everything’s in there, borrow any of my stuff that you want.”  
   
Chris winces. “Do I smell?”  
   
“No.” Sebastian smiles at him, and moves in closer, running his nose along the column of Chris’s neck as if to prove it. “Not at all. Just, trust me, okay? Don’t get dressed after. Meet me in the bedroom.”  
   
Ticklish warmth flares in Chris’s stomach. He hugs his arms around Sebastian’s waist. “Got something planned?”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
“Care to share?”  
   
“Something I said to you, a while ago, now. About licking you everywhere.”  
   
“Oh.” Chris’s cheeks flush as he understands what Sebastian is referring to. “You don’t … have to …”  
   
“Don’t have to what?” Sebastian asks. Chris doesn’t answer, so he elaborates. “Don’t have to treat you nice? Make you feel good?”  
   
Chris just shrugs.  
   
“You’re not an obligation, Chris. Anyone who ever made you feel like you were … they’re the one who’s fucked up, not you.”  
   
“You’ve been treated badly, too.”  
   
“It’s not the same.” Sebastian kisses his neck, and his fingers play in the hair at the nape of Chris’s neck. It’s getting long; time for a cut, probably, but Sebastian seems to like it. “I was treated like I didn’t matter, while simultaneously treating them like they didn’t matter either. It was transactional. Not the same as being neglected by someone you thought loved you back.”  
   
“I’ve never …” Chris admits.  
   
“Do you not want me to?”  
   
Chris shrugs again. “Always been kinda curious, I guess. He …”  
   
He doesn’t finish the sentence. Internally lectures himself a little, for always ruining the mood by bringing up old hurts. He didn’t used to be like this. He used to be much more skilled at keeping these things locked away. Sebastian makes him feel so safe to confess anything and everything, and Chris is getting used to that freedom. As the thought crosses his mind, he realizes it isn’t such a bad thing.  
   
“I hate him,” Sebastian says, and Chris can tell he means it. “I also refuse to let him put a stain on us. Go, nice hot water. Get yourself all relaxed.”  
   
The thought of standing alone in Sebastian’s shower stall, rubbing soap into himself, anticipating, doesn’t sound exciting to Chris, it sounds nerve-wracking. Like waiting for test results. “Come with me?” he requests.  
   
Sebastian blinks, and smiles at him. “Why didn’t I think of that?”  
   
“Too busy bossing me around,” Chris teases, the anxiety of the moment dissolving away as Sebastian laughs and kisses him.  
   
Sebastian takes his hand and leads him to the bathroom, stopping on the way to pull two fluffy orange towels out of the closet. They undress each other as they kiss and steam fills the room as the water heats up, and Sebastian pulls Chris gently into the stall with him and puts him under the water stream. Chris wasn’t tense to begin with, but his shoulders relax instantly as the warmth hits them. Sebastian rubs his chest, just the water smoothing the caress of his fingers over Chris’s pecs, and then reaches to a built-in shelf for a bottle of shower gel. It smells like lavender, and something fresh and woodsy and a little more masculine, maybe eucalyptus. No wonder Sebastian always smells so good. The scent is familiar, takes Chris back to watching movies together with his nose tucked up against Sebastian’s neck. He runs his fingers through Sebastian’s damp hair as silky suds are massaged into his chest, Sebastian’s hands rubbing him, working any leftover bits of tension out of his body. Chris takes the bottle from him and reciprocates, lathering Sebastian’s warm skin and loving the feel of him. He’ll never tire of touching this man, not when he’s so nice to touch.  
   
“Turn around,” Sebastian says to him.  
   
Chris ignores him. Instead he moves in closer, crowding Sebastian up against the opposite wall, pressing him into wet tiles and kissing him deeply. Sebastian makes a beautiful sound low in his throat, and hikes one leg up to hook his heel behind Chris’s calf so when Chris rocks into him they rub together from chests to knees. Not fully hard but quickly getting there, Sebastian feels so perfect against him, and part of Chris wants to save Sebastian’s plan for another time and just sink to his knees right here, swallow Sebastian down in the warmth of the shower, suck him until they both end up on the floor.  
   
Sebastian can sense it, and he shakes his head and pushes at Chris’s shoulders. “No, no, no, you think I don’t know what you’re doing? That was an order, no changing the game halfway through.”  
   
“You’re really complaining about getting kissed and rubbed on?” Chris asks with a raised eyebrow.  
   
Sebastian grins at him. “I’m complaining about you being a control freak. Most of the time, it’s cute. Right now, it’s not allowed. I’m driving this bus. Turn around.”  
   
It comes out as a proper command, this time, and Chris isn’t prepared for the way it makes him shiver, and his dick throb and fill even more than it was.  
   
Sebastian notices, and he steps in closer, his hands low on Chris’s hips and lips on his neck. “Oh, so you like being bossed around a little. I can definitely work with that.”  
   
The flush travels down Chris’s chest, and it’s from more than the heat of the steam surrounding them. “I don’t … maybe. I don’t know. Maybe.”  
   
Sebastian bites him; gently, but enough to feel it, at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. “Hands against the wall. I’m not gonna ask again.”  
   
Chris finally listens, turning and spreading his fingers out on the slippery tile, the water from the shower head pouring down over his chest. He tips his head forward so it’s cascading over the back of his neck instead.  
   
“Good boy,” Sebastian says, nearly a purr, the kind of cheesy porn dialogue that normally Chris would cringe at but right now has heat pooling in his gut.  
   
Sebastian massages soap into his back, working out knots in his shoulders and flanks that Chris wasn’t even aware of. Sebastian finds one between his shoulder blades, and it hurts when his knuckle presses in but Chris moans in pleasure when he feels it give and release under Sebastian’s touch.  
   
“You need to get an actual massage,” Sebastian tells him. “From someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”  
   
“I don’t know, that feels pretty good,” Chris replies, his voice wavering.  
   
Sebastian kisses the spot he’d just been working on, and murmurs into wet skin, “it’s gonna get better. Just wait.”  
   
Chris shivers again, and Sebastian chuckles at the reaction.  
   
“Responsive, tonight,” he marvels, soapy hands moving lower, rubbing Chris’s hips. He goes to his knees, spreading soap up and down Chris’s legs, and then what feels like a washcloth appears from nowhere and is moving over the cheeks of his ass, dipping in between and rubbing soap there too. It’s halfway between nice and embarrassing, intimate enough to get his heart racing but also his face heats up and he hides it against his own arm.  
   
“You’re good,” Sebastian whispers to him, kissing at the base of his spine, soothing. “Don’t over-think it. Everything’s okay.”  
   
Chris nods, and tries to follow his direction. It feels a lot more pleasant when he exhales the breath he’d been holding. Sebastian stands after another moment, leaving the cloth on the floor and taking Chris’s hips back in his hands. He kisses Chris on the shoulder.  
   
“Rinse off, okay?” he says softly, and Chris turns and lets the water wash the suds away. Sebastian’s eyes are wide, pupils blown to hide most of the blue.  
   
He reaches behind Chris to shut the water off, and then steps out of the shower and helps Chris do the same with a hand on his back. Chris doesn’t need him to, but finds being taken care of feels nicer than he would have thought. Sebastian rubs over his skin with a towel, drying his hair and then wrapping it around Chris’s whole body like he’s five years old. With a kiss to his cheek, Sebastian tells him, “Go lie down. I’ll be right there.”  
   
“Back or stomach?” Chris asks.  
   
The soft smile on Sebastian’s face says he’s pleased Chris didn’t argue this time. “Stomach.”  
   
Chris nods, and goes obediently. He pulls the towel off him and leaves it on the floor, but then realizes it might damage the hardwood so he picks it back up and hangs it over the knob on the door of Sebastian’s closet. He drags the quilt back on the bed, revealing navy sheets, and lies down on them, folding his arms underneath his head and resting on the backs of his crossed palms. He breathes, closing his eyes, inhaling the clean smell of fabric softener and the lingering scent of the shower gel. He’s read lavender is calming, and he does feel himself relax even further as he breathes; skin still warm from the shower and the sheets soft underneath him, smooth against his groin where he’s still mostly hard from all the touching.  
   
Sebastian’s footsteps have Chris opening one eye to peek at him, still naked and flushed from the shower as well, with lube in one hand and a bottle of some other liquid in the other. Sebastian blows out a breath as he takes Chris in. He sets both bottles down next to the lamp and hovers over Chris, eyes raking up and down his body.  
   
“God, you’re beautiful,” Sebastian breathes.  
   
“Stop,” Chris complains into his hands, but doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mind Sebastian looking, especially not if he’s going to say nice things. “What sort of torture equipment did you bring over?”  
   
“Sort of the opposite of torture equipment.” Sebastian picks up the bigger bottle and climbs on top of Chris, settling on the backs of his thighs with his own legs tucked under him. He unscrews the cap and drizzles oil onto Chris’s back, before setting the bottle back on the nightstand. His fingers play in the silky liquid, spreading it around a little before he goes back to massaging like he was in the shower, only better now because their position and gravity allows him to but some weight behind him. He presses the heels of his palms in, sliding up Chris’s back and then back down, and Chris shudders underneath him.  
   
“Depends on your definition,” Chris tells him.  
   
Sebastian leans over, to knead at his shoulders and nip his earlobe. “Want me to break out the whips and ball-gags?”  
   
Chris coughs in surprise. “Do you actually have that stuff?”  
   
“No.” Sebastian kisses the side of his face. “Joking. Kinda wouldn’t hate the idea of you tying me up, though. Maybe. If we were feeling kinky.”  
   
Chris doesn’t hate the idea either, and neither does certain parts of his anatomy.  
   
“Now, shut up,” Sebastian tells him, gently, but still an order, like in the shower. “That brain never turns off. Let me mute it for a while.”  
   
“Sometimes I – ”  
   
“Hey.” Sebastian punctuates the word with a light slap to Chris’s ass, that takes Chris by surprise and then has him moaning. “What did I say?”  
   
Chris doesn’t answer, and Sebastian soothes where his palm had just made contact, gently petting with slippery fingers.  
   
“That’s better.”  
   
His hands feel like magic, warm and soft, digging gently into all the right places and leaving muscles liquid in their wake. He touches everywhere he can reach, massaging up Chris’s left arm and then down his right, taking each finger in turn into his hand and squeezing. He moves his thumb in circles over Chris’s palms, and Chris had no idea a human could carry tension there, but it feels good. Sebastian’s lips follow his hands around, leaving soft kisses on warm patches of skin, his tongue coming out to taste now and then but not in any pattern Chris can predict, leaving him guessing. It feels like falling asleep but holding onto consciousness but just a few weak threads, like Chris is drifting halfway between states of consciousness, lulled into melted butter by Sebastian’s hands and mouth.   
   
When he goes lower, kneading strong fingers into Chris’s lower back and further down still, Chris starts paying closer attention, but then Sebastian climbs off him and bypasses his middle all together, rubbing oil into his legs instead. Chris’s calves do get tight, because he jogs so much, and the attention to them feels therapeutic. He squirms when Sebastian hits a ticklish spot behind his knee, and Sebastian kisses his thigh in apology and takes his fingers away from it. Hands squeeze his hamstrings, smoothing oil over his skin, inching higher slowly and fingertips dipping towards the center, inner parts of his thighs where the skin is more sensitive.  
   
“Make some room for me,” Sebastian requests softly, kissing the small of Chris’s back. Chris moves his legs apart enough for Sebastian to kneel between them, and is rewarded by more touches to the insides of his thighs. He’s still hard against the mattress, but the mellow, pleasant kind. Not frantic for friction just yet, just floating and warm and feeling good.  
   
Fingers slip between his ass cheeks, petting along sensitive, intimate skin. Chris squirms again, and tries to keep himself still. Sebastian wants him to be still.  
   
Warm breath descends on him, and Sebastian kisses the meat of his ass and whispers to him, “you are allowed to talk if its to tell me you don’t like this. Okay? Squeeze my hand so I know you heard me.”  
   
Chris does. Sebastian’s fingers linger in his for just a moment, and then they mirror his other hand in spreading Chris apart, and wet heat is pressing against him, warm and soft, small licks at first and then moving in slow circles when Chris doesn’t immediately ask for it to stop. He has no intention of stopping it. Every inch of his consciousness narrows down to the feeling, and the moan that spills from his mouth should be humiliating but it spurs Sebastian on so Chris can’t regret it.  
   
“Sebastian,” falls from his lips, and then he remembers. “Fuck, sorry.”  
   
Sebastian hums against him, sending shockwaves of vibration into Chris’s body. “Moaning my name is very much okay. I like the  way you say it.”  
   
He goes back to licking, and sucking at Chris, and the tip of his tongue pushes inside, and Chris grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s dripping against the sheets, he can feel it smearing messy on his stomach. Instead of reaching for the lube, Sebastian slides his fingers through the oil still soaking into Chris’s back, and pushes at his hole with the tip of one, sliding it in beside his tongue. Chris feels boneless already so it slips in easy, refamiliarizes Chris with the soft feeling of it, the push and pull, all while Sebastian’s tongue is still laving over him, making it all warm and electric in a way he isn’t used to.  
   
“Doin’ okay?” Sebastian asks.  
   
“Feels good,” Chris slurs, sounding intoxicated off his ass even though he’s stone sober.  
   
Sebastian pushes another finger in, works through the breath of resistance to get two moving in and out of Chris’s body. He spreads them, and sticks his tongue between them, licking around inside. Chris could die happy.  
   
“‘Bout to get better,” Sebastian promises darkly, bending his fingers and finding the spot.  
   
It’s like slow fireworks, like explosions caught in molasses, as he rubs it, fingertip moving in soft little circles and leaving Chris whimpering pathetically as his synapses light up. It’s a massage, like earlier on his shoulders, but so much better it shouldn’t share the same word. Sebastian keeps licking around his fingers as they move, erratically in and out so they bump his prostate and then just staying inside to press against it, not letting up, not giving Chris a moment of relief. He might be crying. He might be yelling, he can’t tell either way, can’t hear much over the blood rushing in his ears, can’t think beyond the sensation. He’s pressing his hips down into the mattress, cock throbbing underneath him with his heartbeat and desperate to be touched, but he tries to stop. Sebastian didn’t tell him he was allowed to do that.  
   
“It’s okay,” Sebastian whispers against Chris’s back, pressing heated kisses low on his spine, realizing Chris is trying to hold back. “You can move, you can … if you need to come, you can. Or if you don’t want to, like this, tell me and we’ll do something else.”  
   
Chris doesn’t know what he wants. He wants everything all at once, his body aching to rock forward into the mattress to find some friction for his cock but also to push back into Sebastian’s hand, seeking more of the frenzied, electric way those fingers are making him feel from the inside.  
   
“Have you ever, just like this?” Sebastian asks.  
   
Chris manages to shake his head, and hears how broken his groan is as Sebastian finds the spot again and circles it.  
   
Sebastian hums. He dips back in for another lick, his tongue soft and wet and so warm against where his fingers are stretching Chris open. “It’s really good. Different, but good. Less sharp, more intense.”  
   
“Seb,” Chris begs. He doesn’t know what he’s begging for. He barely knows what year it is.  
   
“Let it go,” Sebastian whispers to him. “I’m here, I got you. Just give into it.”  
   
A few more presses of his fingertips and the fire ignites from inside, starting at the base of Chris’s spine and exploding upwards, taking over everything, like being drenched in warm honey, like flying. Chris feels it in his skull and the tips of his fingers. It lasts forever, new waves of it crashing over him just as he thinks it has to be over because he can’t possibly feel any more. The sheets underneath him end up soaked, and Chris’s throat hurts, and he only halfway notices any of it because he’s floating.  
   
He’s aware of the fingers leaving him, gently, and he wants them back even though it might hurt, now. Sebastian is kissing up his spine, murmuring at him, cursed words and stuttered praises and other things Chris can’t understand. “I’ll be right back,” Sebastian is saying, sounding urgent. He tugs the top sheet up over Chris so he won’t be cold. “Right back, don’t move.”  
   
“Can’t,” Chris tells him. He can’t even open his eyes. His limbs wouldn’t be capable of moving right now if he was being attacked.  
   
“Right back,” Sebastian says, a third time, and then his heat is gone and Chris does shiver without him.  
   
A soft grunt comes from the bathroom, and Chris’s sleepy brain manages to work out what that means, but he lacks the capacity to feel fully guilty about it. He might hear a soft, shaky laugh, as well, or he might have imagined it. He definitely doesn’t imagine the water running. He also doesn’t imagine Sebastian’s cat jumping up onto the bed, announcing his presence with a species-typical mrrrp! and making himself comfortable on Chris’s back. He doesn’t mind, it’s warm.  
   
“Riot,” Sebastian says fondly, when he comes back into the room.  
   
“S’okay,” Chris slurs.  
   
The soft laugh comes again, and now Chris is sure he heard it the first time. Sebastian’s hands are back on him, urging him to roll over. “At least move to the side a little. You’re not gonna be happy tomorrow if you sleep in the mess you made.”  
   
Chris wrinkles his nose. “I think there’s a lot of it.”  
   
Another laugh, but Sebastian’s voice is low and raspy as he slides clean fingers through Chris’s still-damp hair. “Good. Means you had a good time.”  
   
He nudges again, and Chris does lift his heavy body up and shifts it over a few inches. Sebastian crawls in with him, blankets tucked around them and Riot willing to compromise and curl up at their feet. Chris doesn’t have the right words to thank Sebastian for the things beyond physical that tonight meant, at least not without getting all in his head again, and Sebastian wouldn’t be happy if Chris did that. So he snuggles in, and kisses back when Sebastian presses lips that taste like peppermint to his mouth.  
   
*           *           *


	14. Chapter 14

It’s the same nightmare as always. Details change, it’s never perfectly identical, but the subject matter never wavers, and it always ends the same way. Brown eyes, that had once been warm and kind and golden in sunlight, gone harsh and wide and accusing. Glass, everywhere. Shattered, exploded into chaotic shards, bright like a firecracker, excruciating knives on his skin. Blood and screaming and deafening racket in the distance, closing in, surrounding him, suffocating him. And rain. Always so much rain. So much it could fill the streets, rise to the levels of windows and pour into houses, rushing, drowning, destroying.  
  
Sebastian wakes with a painful, ragged gasp, the kind he would take if he’d been choked, strangled by strong hands and then discarded, tossed to the floor to struggle for air. He blinks, and the room above him comes into view, a dark ceiling and a furrowed brow, strands of hair falling over it. He feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and a warm body tucked all the way down his left side, to a leg thrown over both of his, keeping him pinned to the mattress. It should be comforting. It isn’t. It feels like being trapped. But his limbs are lead. He struggles, but he’s not sure he actually moves. He tries to shout, to throw his captor off, but no sound comes out. His chest heaves, panic gripping him like frozen hands around his throat.  
  
“Sebastian.” The voice is soft, and a little scared. A hand comes up to cup his cheek. “Hey, look at me.”  
  
He does, and recognizes the person holding him down. Blue eyes, not brown. Chris’s face is so kind, so nice, so handsome even in the darkness.  
  
“Just a dream,” Chris soothes. “A bad dream, you’re okay. You’re here with me.”  
  
Two out of three are correct. It had been a dream. He is here, in Chris’s bed, in his arms. He isn’t okay, though. He shoves Chris off him, rougher than was likely necessary, and he hears that in the unhappy noise Chris makes. He gets up, walks a few steps away, but doesn’t know where to go. He isn’t in his own home. He can still see the nightmare behind his eyes, even though he’s awake and it’s over. It’s never really over. He doesn’t know how but he ends up on the floor, knees pulled up against his chest. He’s naked. It’s so ridiculous that he’s naked. They’d fallen asleep together, after kisses and touches and blissful orgasms, but in this moment it leaves him stripped and vulnerable, bare ass on somebody else’s floor, his dick smushed between his thighs and his stomach. He curls in on himself more, protecting. He tries to breathe, but his lungs constrict and won’t let him draw in air. He’s suffocating, maybe he’s having a heart attack, maybe he’s dying.  
  
Footsteps move toward him, slow enough to be cautious but quick enough to be panicked. Chris is naked too, but unashamed of it unlike Sebastian. He kneels down in front of him and puts shaking hands on his arms.  
  
“Seb,” he whispers. “Baby please talk to me, you’re scaring me.”  
  
Sebastian just shakes his head. He can’t.  
   
“Breathe,” Chris instructs. He sounds terrified. “I think you’re having a panic attack, you need to breathe. I know it feels horrible but you’re okay, you’ll be fine, you just need to breathe for me.”  
   
Sebastian tries, and after a moment or two it feels less like he might fall over dead at any second.  
  
“I know, I know it’s hard, okay, but I need …” Chris exhales and it’s uneven. He’s so close, sitting on his heels on the floor, leaning over Sebastian and gently stroking his cheeks, his hair, his shoulders. Calming, soothing. “I just need you to tell me, if it’s just the dream. If it’s a bad nightmare … but if it’s something else, if something happened yesterday, if someone did something to you, or if you’re in some kind of danger …”  
  
Sebastian understands the fear in his voice, because most people don’t react this way to bad dreams, because of course they don’t, and hates so much that he scared Chris. He manages to look up into Chris’s terrified face, and shake his head. “Just an old nightmare.”  
  
Chris visibly relaxes, and that’s better. Sebastian doesn’t want him hurting, ever. Chris is good and kind and sweet and brave, he doesn’t deserve to hurt. “Okay, that’s … not good, but, not as bad as what I was imagining.”  
  
Sebastian nods, and releases his iron grip on his legs a little. His heart rate is coming back down.  
  
“Come back to bed?” Chris says softly, running gentle fingers through Sebastian’s hair. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want. I understand. Just let me hold you until we fall back asleep.”  
  
Sebastian nods again, and lets himself be pulled to his feet. That’s when the tears come, small and pathetic and entirely beyond his control, and Chris hugs him.  
  
“Oh, baby,” he sighs, leading Sebastian back to the bed. He gets them both under the covers, helping Sebastian in because his body still isn’t working properly. Chris tucks them in, and then cradles Sebastian in his arms, stroking his hair and kissing his face. As Sebastian’s shoulders shake, he spares a thought for the fact that they’ve both cried in front of the other, now. It’s relatively early in the relationship for Sebastian to fully let his walls down, and let Chris see the pathetic mess he really is underneath his carefully crafted outer shell, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hold it back. Especially in wounded moments like this one. Especially since he’s never let those walls completely down for anyone. Even Hayley.  
   
When the tears slow, Chris asks, “it’s a nightmare you’ve had before?”  
  
Sebastian nods.  
  
“About Romania?”  
  
It makes sense that he’d think that, but he’s wrong. Sebastian doesn’t answer.  
  
“Okay.” Chris brushes tears from his face and kisses his nose. “You don’t have to tell me right now. Just promise me you’ll tell me some day? So I can help.”  
  
Sebastian nods again, because it seems he’s lost the ability to talk. He doesn’t know if he means it as a yes. He doesn’t know if he can ever talk about it. He never has. But his apparent agreement ends the conversation, so it serves its purpose. Chris tugs him in and rolls onto his back, so Sebastian ends up half on top of him with his head pillowed on Chris’s chest.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” Chris murmurs, strong arms holding him close. “I’m right here.”  
  
“Don’t leave,” Sebastian hears himself say. He recalls saying something similar the night they had sex for the first time. Chris must be so sick of this; sick of him being so weak and pitiful and needing to be cared for like a child.  
  
“I’m not,” Chris promises. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”  
  
Sebastian didn’t mean stay until morning. Many have stayed until morning. But he won’t make Chris promise forever.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“Is there some symbolism in this?” Hayley asks.  
   
Sebastian is staring straight ahead and slightly down, toward the stage and the bottom of the lecture theater. The stage is empty, but in a few minutes, Chris will walk out onto it, and stand behind the podium, and give his first public lecture since taking a job at Yale. He’d been so nervous. He’d word-vomited all over Sebastian about it a few days ago; about how he’d been recruited for this lecture series at the last minute because another speaker had been stricken with a family emergency, and how he’d agreed to it in the moment and then regretted it in the next moment. Chris has a near-paralyzing fear of public speaking, in situations such as this. Sebastian has never sat in on one of his classes (although, he now realizes, he should), but he’s discerned enough from the way Chris talks about his students to assume he’s an excellent teacher. He gets so animated when he talks about things he has passion for; voice going high and loud and hands waving around spastically and eyes lighting up so beautifully. Sebastian can tell he’s the kind of teacher who could engage even the most bored, apathetic student; drawing them into whatever subject he was speaking on as if it were the most fascinating thing that had ever been discussed. But this – speaking in a room full of not only curious students but also colleagues, fellow academics, people Chris is already intimidated by – this terrifies him. Sebastian does understand the difference. At the front of a room full of undergraduate students, he’s inherently in charge, and unarguably the most educated person in the room. In this environment, he isn’t.  
   
“Symbolism in what?” Sebastian responds, after far too long, to Hayley’s question.  
   
“He’s too busy waiting for his man to come out, to pay any attention to us,” Hayley says, to Anthony, who’s seated on Sebastian’s other side.  
   
Anthony rarely makes it to these types of events. He’s been to see Sebastian speak a few times, but is usually occupied with his own responsibilities on weekday afternoons. He’d specifically cleared his schedule, when Sebastian had offhandedly mentioned in front of him that Chris was nervous about today. He’d wanted to be with them; to provide a united front, a little wall of support, so Chris could look out into the crowd and see at least three people who would still love him if he fumbled his words or dropped his cue cards. Sebastian hadn’t commented on it, but it had filled him with lovely, glittery warmth; to know his best friends have accepted Chris into their little family so readily.  
   
“Listen.” Anthony grins, and shoves gently at Sebastian’s arm. He still speaks to Hayley, as he says, “I’ve seen him, at the gym. I’m not gay but even I wiggled a little in my shorts, looking at all those muscles. Seabass has been doomed since the day we saw him at the faculty homecoming.”  
   
Sebastian buries his face in his hands and sinks down lower in his seat, painfully aware of the full auditorium around them, and that Anthony is incapable of shame, and also of whispering. “That is such an inappropriate thing to say, in a room full of our colleagues.”  
   
“Prude,” Hayley accuses, at the same time as her husband declares, “Not my fault you’re sexually repressed.”  
   
Sebastian gives Anthony a hard, unamused glare, one that communicates both that he needs to stop talking, and also that all three of them know how far that accusation is from reality. Anthony stares back at him for barely three seconds before he cracks up; erupting into loud, uncontrolled laughter, and slapping his knee. His outburst earns them several over-the-shoulder scowls from the row below them.  
   
“Symbolism  _because_ ,” Hayley says, continuing her earlier point, “he finally asked you out after the first time he attended one of  _your_ lectures.”  
   
“He did?” Anthony asks, his snickering ceasing abruptly, sitting up straighter as his interest piques and looking at Hayley over the top of Sebastian’s head.  
   
As she answers, Hayley wraps her arms sideways around Sebastian’s shoulders. She rests her chin on the top of Sebastian’s head. “I sat with him, right here in this theater. Seb told us all about incorporating American Indians into Atlantic History, and Christopher watched him like he was falling more in love with every word.”  
   
“Don’t,” Sebastian mutters, but of course they ignore him.  
   
“You should have seen his face.” Hayley kisses the top of Sebastian’s head. “He was infatuated with our Sebastian. It took me about seven words to convince him to run down to the stage after it was over and ask for a date.”  
   
“Seabass,” Anthony teases, dragging out the second syllable and poking Sebastian in the ribs.  
   
“So, what, am I supposed to ask him to marry me after this? To complete the circle?” Sebastian asks. He still doesn’t understand what Hayley is getting at. “We’ve been dating less than three months.”  
   
As he’s saying it, Chris walks out onto the stage. He looks devastatingly handsome, in a navy suit with a satin black shirt underneath and brown leather shoes, and the audience breaks into scattered applause as he does. He holds a hand up, in awkward acknowledgement, as he makes his way toward the podium. Sebastian sees the moment Chris notices him, and Hayley and Anthony, in the fourth row. Chris doesn’t wave at them, but he smiles. Not big and bright and blinding, like his usual smiles, but still pleased under the mask of anxiety. He looks happy to see them – he just looks like other things are weighing more heavily on his mind at this exact moment. Sebastian smiles back at him, and tries to make it comforting and supportive.  
   
“He’s gorgeous,” Hayley whispers, in Sebastian’s ear, only loud enough for him to hear.  
   
“I know,” Sebastian whispers back. He squeezes her knee, to let her know he isn’t really upset with them for teasing him.  
   
Chris does sound nervous, at first, but Sebastian thinks he notices mostly because he knows Chris so well. He doubts anyone else can tell. As he delves into his topic – an overview of his most well-received book, on the important societal roles of prostitutes during the Italian renaissance – his confidence solidifies. Or maybe passion just takes over. To a captivated audience, he discusses the power of sex workers, the willingness of powerful men to trust them with dangerous secrets, and the significance of information dissemination between women at public fountains. Sebastian watches with a racing heart, and with mellow heat flooding to his extremities. He’s nearly bursting with pride, watching Chris own the room. Near the end of his lecture, Chris acknowledges that as a cis-gendered man, he should defer some authority on this subject, and brings out a small group of female students from one of his classes – including Kayla – to present their own research from class research projects.  
   
Sebastian stands to applaud, with the rest of the audience, as they finish and thank the crowd for attending. He watches Chris smiling out at the auditorium, and notes the look of pride and admiration on Chris’s face as he lightly touches Kayla’s shoulder before she exits the stage with her classmates. Hayley reaches over for Sebastian’s hand and takes it, squeezing his fingers. As the audience begins to filter out, and a few professors from the department approach Chris to discuss his lecture, Sebastian and Hayley and Anthony make their way up the stairs and out into the hall. He’d agreed with Chris that they’d meet at Sebastian’s office later, after Chris managed to shake off the admirers Sebastian was sure would flock to him.  
   
“How boring was that for you?” Sebastian asks Anthony, as they file into the hallway with dozens of others.  
   
“That’s very rude,” Anthony returns. “I love 15th century Italian prostitutes.”  
   
Hayley laughs. “Who doesn’t?”  
   
“Thank you for coming,” Sebastian says, and tries to convey in his face how much he means it. “I know it will have meant a lot to him.”  
   
Anthony hugs him, which is unusual. They’re close, but that doesn’t often translate into sustained physical contact. “I like him, and I like him for you,” Anthony says, against Sebastian’s ear, and then he pulls back and excuses himself; a meeting with the special teams’ coordinator his reason for a premature departure.  
   
After ten weeks of dating Chris, Sebastian actually knows what that means.  
   
“Come on, Romeo.” Hayley hooks her arm around Sebastian’s and they walk together back to his office.  
   
On his velvet couch, where they’ve discussed everything from first dates to family deaths to terrible one-night-stands to her engagement, she holds his hand in both of hers. Her thumbs move over his skin, drawing slow arcs, that feel careful and hesitant. He wishes she would just speak her mind, even though he’s aware he might not like what she’s thinking right now. When she’s reluctant to talk, it often means Sebastian is going to object when she finally does come out with it.  
   
“Hales,” Sebastian says, preferring to cut to the chase. If she’s about to ruin his good mood, he’d prefer she get to it before Chris gets here.  
   
“I don’t want to be overbearing, but …”  
   
Sebastian snorts. “You don’t? So it’s just a natural talent?”  
   
She bumps her shoulder into his. “Shush. You know what I mean. It’s your life.”  
   
“But?” he repeats, giving her permission to continue.  
   
“He seems fairly wonderful. And  _you_ seem happy, and you … I haven’t seen you like this with anybody since … Andrew.” She’s careful and gentle about it, and it makes Sebastian’s chest clench uncomfortably anyway, the lingering surge of pain returning like it always does whenever that name comes up, which is rare, because she knows how much it still affects him and she doesn’t broach the subject if she can help it. Sebastian never brings it up. He hasn’t in over a decade.  
   
“That’s not true,” Sebastian argues weakly. “I was with – what’s his name – for almost a year.”  
   
She raises both eyebrows. “ _What’s his name_?”  
   
“ _Tom_ , his name was Tom. Don’t give me that face, it was a brain-fart, I didn’t  _actually_ forget his name.”  
   
“Tom was ages ago, and we both know you had one foot out the door of that relationship the entire time. You never really committed to it. And he knew it too, that’s why he gave up.”  
   
“I didn’t cheat on him.”  
   
“What?” She blinks in surprise. “I didn’t say you had.”  
   
“I know, just … never mind.”  
   
“Too late, I already mind. Why would you say that?”  
   
“Chris was cheated on,” Sebastian sighs. “By a guy he was with for a while, apparently for like the  _whole_  time they were together, and he’s still messed up about it, and … I just … wanted you to know I wouldn’t do that. To anyone. You break up with someone if you don’t want to be with them anymore, you don’t … do that.”  
   
She turns, pulling one leg up on the couch and tucking it underneath her, so she can face him. It hitches her skirt up higher than would be proper if she were in the presence of anyone other than him or her husband. Around Sebastian, she ignores social conventions. She reaches out and drags her manicured fingernails through his hair, and Sebastian leans into her touch. “I know, darling,” she says softly. “I know you wouldn’t.”  
   
Sebastian exhales, and it feels cleansing while at the same time everything is still complicated. He slides down on the couch so he can tip his head back against the cushions, and Hayley curls herself around him with her head on his shoulder.  
   
“Do you love him?”  
   
“I don’t know,” Sebastian answers quietly, even though he does.  
   
“I think you do know.”  
   
Sebastian presses his lips together and then licks them. He takes a deep breath, and says the words out loud for the first time. “Okay. You’re right. I’m in love with him.”  
   
Hayley hugs her arm around his waist. “I am ecstatically happy for you. He is so sweet, and kind, and so good for you. What I don’t understand is why that makes you look like you’re on your way to a funeral. It’s meant to be a good thing.”  
   
“Does it scare you, to think about Anthony being the only person you’ll be with for the rest of your life?”  
   
“No. Because that’s what I want, also. If it wasn’t I never would have married him. Do you want to be with Chris for the rest of your life?”  
   
“Maybe,” Sebastian admits.  
   
“Again, a good thing. A fantastic thing.”  
   
“What if he doesn’t … want that too?”  
   
“I know you’re not blind, I know you can see how he looks at you. Like he thinks you’re a miracle.”  
   
“He’s the miracle. He was cheated on and he still wants to try again. I’m a coward who’s spent 15 years keeping an eye on the exits, so I never get hurt again.”  
   
“In your defense, things ended relatively catastrophically, the last time you let yourself care like this. The only time, if I’m not mistaken.”  
   
“It was a really long time ago. It’s stupid that it’s still controlling my life.”  
   
“Here’s what I know. Soulmates are made up. Love is a choice, not a thing the universe magically gives you but only once. Andrew was … an incredible person. I miss him every day, just like you do.”  
   
“Why don’t we ever talk about him?”  
   
“I didn’t think you wanted to.”  
   
“I didn’t think I wanted to either.” Sebastian shakes his head, and still has no idea what would make him feel better about it. Maybe nothing ever will.  
   
“We can start talking about him. But my point is this. He loved you, but he wasn’t the only person on the planet who’s capable of loving you. You didn’t get your one and only shot at happiness at 19. You get as many chances as you want.”  
   
A soft knock at the door preludes it opening to reveal Chris, pink-cheeked and gazing at them tentatively, as he takes in the sight of them cuddled on the couch, like he isn’t sure if he should be interrupting.  
   
“Come in, handsome,” Hayley says to him. “We were just talking about how brilliant you were.”  
   
Chris closes the door behind himself, and sits on Sebastian’s other side. “I managed to not make a complete idiot of myself.”  
   
“Hardly.” Hayley reaches over Sebastian and touches Chris’s forearm. “You were spectacular.”   
   
Sebastian looks at him, and Chris’s eyes meet his; narrowed slightly even though he’s smiling, insecurity clearly thrumming under his skin. Sebastian reaches up to touch Chris’s face, and doesn’t care that Hayley is right next to them as he lovingly murmurs, “you were amazing.”  
   
Chris’s smile spreads, creasing the skin around his eyes. He tips forward and presses a kiss to Sebastian’s lips, and if he minds that they aren’t alone, he doesn’t show it.  
   
Hayley excuses herself, praising Chris once more before she slips out of the room and leaves them alone.  
   
“Really?” Chris asks, eyes shining.  
   
Sebastian nods. “Let’s get outta here.”  
   
They head back to Sebastian’s apartment, mostly because it’s closer to campus than Chris’s house is. While Chris is showering, Sebastian lights a fire. He balances three logs on top of each other and crumbles some old newspaper to help it start, igniting one sheet with a barbeque lighter and using it to spread the flames to a few different spots, and then stoking with an iron poker until it’s roaring. He drags the chain curtain shut over it, and then heads to the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove. He’s walking toward the living room with a full teapot and mugs on a tray when Chris comes out, in boxers and what looks like one of Sebastian’s old t-shirts. It’s too small on his massive chest, and it stretches over his muscles and doesn’t leave much at all to the imagination. Sebastian’s mouth waters.  
   
“Hope you don’t mind.” Chris gestures at himself, and it’s only then Sebastian realizes he’s also borrowed a pair of underwear. “Didn’t wanna put my suit back on.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head and struggles embarrassingly to keep his cool. “No, not at all.”  
   
“You sure?”  
   
“Yeah. Kinda like you in my clothes, not gonna lie.” Sebastian crosses in front of him to set the tray down on the coffee table so he doesn’t have to look at Chris smirking.  
   
“Makes you seem over-dressed, doesn’t it?” Chris asks. His voice bounces with faux-innocence.  
   
Sebastian looks at Chris over his shoulder. “Trying to get me naked, Evans?”  
   
“Always,” Chris answers, with a shrug like it’s a stupid question.  
   
Sebastian indulges him; stripping out of his dress pants and sweater, so he too is clad in only boxers and an undershirt. He sits on his couch, and holds his hand out. Chris joins him, dropping his body down and immediately snuggling in. He’s such a big puppy, always wanting to be touching, always wanting to be close. Sebastian isn’t complaining. He hugs an arm around Chris’s shoulders and kisses his forehead.  
   
“So, is this all part of your plan of seduction?” Chris asks, pointing to the fireplace. “Maximum romantic aesthetic? What kind of apartment has a working fireplace?”  
   
“You think I have a plan of seduction?”  
   
“Maybe not a formal one. Am I wrong?”  
   
“That depends.”  
   
“On what?”  
   
“Is it working?”  
   
He feels Chris smile against his neck, and Chris’s arm goes around his middle. “Yes.”  
   
Sebastian smiles too. “Good.”  
   
The fire crackles, and Sebastian watches the mesmerizing dance of the flames with Chris against him, the scent of Sebastian’s shower gel coming off his warm skin. He traces absentminded patterns on Chris’s back with his fingers. After a few minutes Chris sits up long enough to pour steaming tea into one of the mugs, blow on it, sip at it twice and then offers the mug to Sebastian as he settles carefully back against his chest. Sebastian takes it and sips, the warm liquid and the fire and the heat from Chris's body leaving him heated in the most delicious way. He sets the mug down on the side table after another sip, and puts his hand on Chris’s cheek so he’ll look up at him. Sapphire eyes find his, and Sebastian’s heart swells at all the things he can see in them.  
   
“You did so good, today,” he says, thumb brushing under Chris’s eyelashes. “I’m so proud of you.”  
   
“Yeah?” Chris smiles shyly. “I was so nervous.”  
   
“I know. But you did it anyway, and you killed it. I kept wanting to tell people in the audience that you were my boyfriend. Wanted everybody who might have their eye on you to know you’re mine.”  
   
“Thank you for coming. I thought maybe it would make me more nervous, having you there, because I’d be worried about impressing you. But it didn’t.”  
   
“Always. I’ll be there every time you speak from now on.”  
   
“You have a job.”  
   
Sebastian shrugs. “I’ll quit. Become your professional cheerleader.”  
   
Chris smiles at him, sweetness and light radiating off him, and he kisses Sebastian’s lips before cuddling back in with his face in Sebastian’s neck. “I don’t pay well.”  
   
“Oh, well in that case, never mind.  I have a lifestyle to maintain.”  
   
Chris chuckles, and then he falls silent, and they exist for a long time in comfortable, contented quiet. When he does speak again, his voice is soft against Sebastian’s skin. “So how does this work? Using the fire for seduction.”  
   
“Exactly like this. I get you undressed, pressed up against me on the couch. Tell you some nice things, like that I’m awed by your intelligence, and that you have beautiful eyes, and that I’m always thinking about getting these big hands on me. And eventually I just sweet talk you right into the bedroom.”  
   
“Has that ever worked?”  
   
“You tell me.”  
   
Chris just hums in response, and tilts his chin up to ask for a kiss.   
  
It isn’t the right time, probably. Sebastian should probably wait until they’re having dinner by candlelight, or strolling hand-in-hand through the park, or at the very least not in their underwear. Hayley’s words, and recent persistent thoughts of his own, spin in his mind, and he can’t help it. It might be the wrong place and the wrong time, but maybe there is no perfect place and time. He says it anyway. “I love you. I’m … in love with you.”  
   
Chris makes a funny, squeaky noise, and his arms squeeze so tight around Sebastian’s body. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been waiting forever for you to say that.”  
   
“What?” Sebastian laughs a little, and sits up so he can see Chris’s face. There’s so much emotion shining in Chris’s bright eyes that it takes his breath away.  
   
“I’ve wanted to say it for weeks, but I didn’t want to scare you off by moving way too fast.” Chris’s hand finds his cheek, fingers brushing gently over it and then his hand slides down at settles at the side of Sebastian’s neck. “I was waiting for you to say it first, but man, I was this close to saying fuck-it and telling you. Or maybe spray painting it on the lawn outside your office or hiring a sky-writer or something.”  
   
“You – really?”  
   
Chris takes Sebastian’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, everywhere. “I love you,” he whispers. He repeats it three more times. “I’m so in love with you, Sebastian, so much I can’t even tell you.”  
   
Sebastian feels himself melting; wouldn’t be surprised if he really was, if his skin was really dripping off his bones like clocks in a Dali painting. If he was paid millions to express in poetry the way it feels to have Chris return his feelings, he wouldn’t do it justice. He dissolves slowly into Chris, their kiss blazing but soft and sweet. “I love everything about you,” he confesses. He feels so safe saying it. It’s a brand new feeling for him – unfamiliar, but liberating. “Your smile and your eyes and your mind and that big, beautiful, golden heart.”  
   
“I’ll cry if you don’t stop,” Chris warns, with a thick laugh. “You know I will.”  
   
“You know when I realized it? The night with Kayla.”  
   
“Not a particularly romantic evening.”  
   
“I know.” Sebastian presses his lips to the bridge of Chris’s nose and leaves them there, so they drag against his skin as he talks. “But you were so upset. It was the first time I saw … how strongly you feel everything. How much you care. We went to bed and you were sniffling in my arms and I just thought … this man has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, and he could focus it on anyone he wants, and he’s here with me. Letting me hold him together after a tough day.”  
   
When Chris blinks up at him, there are tears in his eyes, and Sebastian kisses them away. Everything he’s spent his entire adult life wanting, but pessimistically convinced he didn’t deserve, shines like diamonds in those clear blue eyes.  
   
*           *           *


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is the very first chapter I wrote for this story, so it's been done for about 2 months already. have a double update because I'm not patient enough to wait until next week!)

Chris drives two hours in the heavily falling snow, well over the speed limit. It’s the first snowfall of the year. It melts on his windshield, because the air outside is only hovering around freezing temperatures without dipping too far below. He hasn’t changed his summer tires out for winter ones yet, so it’s even more dangerous for him to be speeding. If he was in the right headspace to consider other people, he might realize how selfish it is for him to endanger his life, and Dodger’s, just because emotions crash over him in stronger waves than they do over others. He isn’t in that headspace, so he just drives faster. He knows he’s being reckless he can’t stop. His mind races the entire way. He thinks about a million things, all in rapid succession – about Eric, and how many times he’d tried to tell his family when he’d started dating a man, about how hurt he knows Scott is going to be when he finds out Chris has known such an important thing about himself for years and never told him, about how ridiculous and unexplainable it is that it took him this long to do what he’s about to do. He’s always told his Mom everything, and told Scott even more. They’ve never had secrets in their family, and Chris has been keeping such a giant one.   
   
Mostly, he thinks about Sebastian. About how beautiful and strong and kind and smart he is, how much he loves him and how much he wants this man in his life for as far into the future as he can imagine. He’s in love, that’s the crux of everything. And Sebastian loves him back in a way no one else ever has. Sebastian doesn’t leave him second guessing, or worrying he’s overbearing, or insecure that he’s too loud or too excited, or feeling small when he’s upset. Being with Sebastian makes Chris feel safe, and understood, and  _loved_. Sebastian loves him; Chris has known that for weeks even though they just finally said it, because Sebastian shows him every day. Sebastian showed him when he brushed away Chris’s tears with gentle fingers, when he gave him space to work through old wounds, when he let Chris into his carefully guarded heart. It’s real, between them, in that solid, permanent way that Chris always longed for but never found with anyone else. He can’t keep that from his family anymore. He doesn’t want to. He wants to yell it from rooftops.  
   
He gets to Boston considerably faster than he should, and clearly surprises Scott when he calls and says he’s already outside his apartment building. It takes Scott a few minutes to come down, darting quickly to Chris’s car with a winter coat wrapped around him. He laughs as he climbs into the passenger’s seat, pushing the hood back off his head and sending cold water droplets everywhere. The snowflakes on his nose melt in the heat of Chris’s car.  
   
“Could this not have waited until morning? I could have met you tomorrow. Hi, Dodger.” Scott twists in his seat to pet the dog behind them. Dodger barks in greeting and licks Scott’s hand.  
   
Chris shakes his head, and his knuckles turn to white on the steering wheel.  
   
Scott notices his posture, and his face, even though he likely can’t see much of it in the dark and in side-profile. “Uh. Okay, what’s going on? You said it wasn’t anything bad but you look like shit.”  
   
“I’m dating a guy,” Chris blurts out. His heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. He hadn’t planned on letting the words spill out of his mouth uncontrolled ten seconds after Scott got into the car. He was going to drive them to a bar, find a private booth in the back, and play this a little more delicately. Like always, he fails hopelessly at anything approaching subtlety.   
   
“Excuse me?” Scott laughs, like he thinks it’s a joke.  
   
“I’m not kidding.” Chris glances at him, but then he can’t. He can’t look at his brother while he does this. Can’t see the confusion and anger and disappointment. He stares straight ahead, into snow falling on pavement in the dark, and forces himself to continue. “I’m. I don’t know, I guess bisexual. I was with women in California but I was with a man, too, and he was a jerk but now I’m with someone else. A colleague. And he’s amazing and I’m in love with him, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now, but … I’m telling you now.”  
   
For a long time, Scott is silent. When he does speak, it’s slowly, like he’s trying to force jagged, mismatched puzzle pieces together in his mind and they won’t fit. “Alright. You … that was a lot of information to receive in twenty seconds.”  
   
“I’m sorry,” Chris says again. He hates the way his voice cracks and heart races.  
   
“So you – sorry, go through it again?”  
   
Chris takes a deep breath and manages to let go of his death-grip on the steering wheel. He tips his head back on the headrest. “I dated a guy in Santa Barbara, for almost two years. That was the first part.”  
   
“Two years,” Scott repeats quietly. Predictably, he sounds upset. More than upset; he sounds devastated.   
   
“I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t tell you.” Chris wants to cry and beg for forgiveness. He manages to keep from doing either, but barely.  
   
“You’re … really not joking?”  
   
Chris closes his burning eyes for a moment. He shakes his head, and makes himself tilt his face towards his brother. He deserves to face the hurt he’s caused. Deserves to understand the magnitude of the trust he’s violated by keeping such an enormous secret from the one person he promised long ago to never keep secrets from. “I should have told you such a stupidly long time ago. I have no good excuses.”  
   
Scott blinks, and his gaze goes back out the front windshield. “Could we go inside?”  
   
Chris nods. “Of course. Anything you want.”  
   
He follows a despondent Scott back up the pathway and to his apartment on the second floor. Dodger follows obediently along behind them. Scott hangs his coat and wanders, with his shoes tracking water along the floor, toward his couch. He sits, and Chris sits next to him, with crawling skin and his heartbeat pounding in his ears.  
   
Scott still looks like he’s trying to make sense of it. “So, for two years, you were … well, no, it would have been more than two years, actually, wouldn’t it? Because no heterosexual just wanders accidentally into a gay bar and makes a life choice because they see a nice ass. So you’d already been thinking, for a  _while_ , that you weren’t straight.”  
   
Regret burns so hot over Chris’s skin. “Yes,” he mumbles.   
   
“How long?”  
   
“I really don’t know. It wasn’t a thought that just popped into my head one day fully formed. I think it was there for a long time before I really noticed it.”  
   
Scott nods slowly, and when he turns to Chris, his eyes are swimming with sadness. “You didn’t think you could talk to me about it?”  
   
It’s too much, and Chris knew he was going to break at some point and he does, tears springing to his eyes before he can stop them. He furiously blinks them away. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I should have.”  
   
“You were the first person I told when I figured out I was gay. I was a kid and I was scared out of my mind about it, but I knew you’d listen to me and try to understand. You didn’t think I’d do the same for you?”  
   
“It wasn’t the same,” is Chris’s only excuse, and it’s wafer-thin. “You figured it out when you were 15, Scott, which is when you’re  _supposed_  to figure this shit out. I was over 30. That’s complicated. I didn’t know if what I was feeling was even real at first, or if I was just sick of shitty relationships and looking for anything that might be different.”  
   
“I get that it doesn’t just hit you like lightening one day and then you just know, okay, I wouldn’t have expected you to call me the second after you’d had your very first gay thought. But at some point during the  _two years_  you spent fucking a dude, I’m willing to bet you clued in to the fact that it wasn’t a damn phase, and  _that’s_  when you should have called me.”  
   
Chris closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands. “I know. Fuck, I know, and I’m so sorry. I tried to tell you so many times, I don’t know why I couldn’t. It had nothing to do with you. It’s me, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I didn’t want it to change the way you looked at me.”  
   
“I’m  _gay_ , idiot,” Scott says, but his voice is gentler, now. “I would never have looked at you different, and you know that. I think maybe what you were really avoiding was changing the way  _you_ looked at you.”  
   
“You’re right.” Chris nods, and it’s a truly miserable realization.   
   
“That’s some internalized homophobia, you gotta work on that shit before you start projecting it onto other people.”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris sniffs. “You’re completely right, and … I don’t know. I don’t have any more excuses. I’m just … sorry.”  
   
Scott sighs, and scoots closer on the couch so he can rub Chris’s back. “Alright. We’ve all been there, I guess. Most of us just handle it a lot more gracefully.”  
   
Chris laughs despite himself, in spite of the tears on his face and the ache in his heart. “Thanks. You always were better than me at almost everything.”  
   
Scott snorts. “Yeah, that is not true. But this, I definitely handled better.”  
   
“You think Mom and Dad are gonna be mad?”  
   
“They’re gonna be sad you didn’t tell them sooner. They won’t care that you’re bi.”  
   
Chris nods. He knew that already, and it doesn’t really help, because he’s going to feel just as bad when they ask why he took so long to confide in them.  
   
“Look, it’s …” Scott’s arm goes all the way around Chris’s shoulders, and he squeezes. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Everybody goes through this differently, there’s no right or wrong way. And you’re right, that it’s more complicated if you’re older. Everybody’s confused as shit at 15, no matter who they are. You weren’t a kid figuring yourself out along with everybody else. You had a whole established life, and this changes some things. I get that.”  
   
“Thanks. I still should have told you.”  
   
“Yeah, you should have. But now you have. So, the guy was a jerk? Did I imagine you saying that?”  
   
“He was sleeping around, basically the whole time we were together. Acted like he thought I knew all along, when I found out. He … the details aren’t important, but he wasn’t who I thought he was.”  
   
“Shit,” Scott swears. “Are you kidding? What a fuckin’ dick.”  
   
“I was messed up over it for a while.”  
   
“Yeah, no shit! I’m sorry, Chris, that’s really, really awful. You don’t deserve that ever, but especially not the first guy you were with. What’s his address, I’ll beat him up for you.”  
   
“He lives in California,” Chris reminds.   
   
“Oh. Right. Okay, I’ll send him a dead rat in the mail.”  
   
“Thanks.” Chris manages another smile, and this one feels better. “I, uh. Also said I’m seeing someone new. I don’t know if you caught that.”  
   
“I vaguely recall something about that.”  
   
“Can I tell you about him?”  
   
Scott tugs him back until they’re both reclined against the couch, feet on the coffee table. “I wanna hear everything. You owe me literal years of talking about boys. Don’t spare a single detail.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
He spends what remains of the night on Scott’s couch, and calls his parents’ land-line in the morning. His hands shake as he presses the name in his contacts, and he half-considers begging Scott to make the phone call for him. Scott wouldn’t do it anyway, if Chris did ask, and he shouldn’t. Lisa is just as confused as Scott was, as he forces the words out of his mouth while Scott watches him apprehensively from across the room, and she requests he come over so they can talk face-to-face. Because he’s still unsteady, Chris had wanted to give himself an easier way out in telling her over the phone, but he can’t deny she deserves an in-person conversation. He drives the few blocks to their childhood home with Scott and Dodger, and Scott pats his knee and says he’ll wait in the car for a few minutes, to give Chris time alone with their Mom.  
   
Chris is so confident he can do this, until she opens the door and he sees her face. Her smile is sad, and suddenly Chris is ten years old again, coming home from school with a bad report card, devastated that she’ll be disappointed in him. Emotions that are already raw and close to the surface expand and erupt over, and he crumbles before he even gets across the threshold. He falls into her arms, shoulders shaking as the dam bursts, and wishes he really was ten years old because back then, she could make everything better with a hug and maybe a cookie. Things are so much more complex now.  
   
“Angel,” she coos at him, rubbing his back as he cries stupidly into her hair. He hasn’t managed a single word, and already this is so much more painful than telling Scott. He’s so conditioned to be desperate for her approval. “Come on, sit down.”  
   
She leads him to the couch, and he curls up against her chest, trying to make himself small, needing to feel protected in her arms. His shoulders shake, shame and guilt and fear all burning up inside him and rupturing out of him faster than he can reel it back in. It’s all out, now, and he can’t put any of it back. He shouldn’t want to, and he wishes he didn’t, but he hates being so out of control. Laying his heart out bare and letting someone else decide whether or not to break it has never been something he’s any good at. He knows he comes across trusting and confident but it’s always been so carefully controlled. He trusts because he only gives away the pieces of himself it wouldn’t break him to lose. It hasn’t been like that with Sebastian. Even through tears, Chris knows that means something important. Chris knows this conversation is years overdue, even as he chokes on the cold dread of the possibility – however tiny – that his mother might hate him for this.  
   
She doesn’t, because of course she doesn’t. She already has one gay son, it’s entirely irrational that she would react any differently to Chris. And Chris knew that, but his fears are never rational. “It’s okay,” Lisa says softly. Her hand pets through his hair as he cries. “You just let it all out. It’s been all pent up in that big brain of yours for a long time. Get it all out, and then we’ll talk when you’re ready.”  
   
It’s horrible and cathartic all at the same time, letting the years he’d spent agonizing over this just spill out of him. By the time Chris manages to calm down, he does feel better. Like he’s been washed clean. He draws in a shuddered breath, and she kisses the top of his head and squeezes the back of his neck.  
   
“There’s tears all over your sweater,” he manages to mumble, struggling to keep from being ashamed of it.  
   
“Tears dry,” she says simply.  
   
Chris closes his eyes and keeps his head rested on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he doesn’t mean about her shirt.  
   
“You don’t have one single thing to be sorry for.”  
   
“You went through all this 20 years ago with Scott. Probably didn’t think you’d have to do it again two decades later.”  
   
“We always knew who Scott was. I knew when he was four years old. Telling us was important to his journey, not ours. He never needed to tell us.”  
   
“What about me?”  
   
She hesitates. “I can’t say I saw this coming. But you have been … unhappy. I think for a lot longer than I realized. I could see it. I should have asked you about it more often.”  
   
Chris shakes his head. “I don’t know if I would’ve said anything anyway, if you had.”  
   
“It breaks my heart to know you were struggling alone for so long.”  
   
Tears spring to his eyes again, and Chris blinks them away. “I didn’t know how to say it out loud. And then I hated myself for it. I was out there willing to deck a guy for having something to say about Scott and then I couldn’t even admit the truth to myself.”  
   
“You’ve always cared more about what people think than Scott does. Always, even when you were little.”  
   
“That’s pathetic.”  
   
“No, it isn’t. You want so badly to make everyone happy. So much that you hide away pieces of yourself. You put everyone else first. And that’s not a bad quality all the time, but it is when it causes you harm. And this time, it did.”  
   
He nods.  
   
She nudges his head up, makes him look at her, with one hand on his cheek, brushing the lingering wetness away. “I want you to say it. Out loud. Look me in the eyes, say it out loud, and then watch as I love you exactly the same as I have since the day you were born. Then we’re going to take this silly notion that anything has to change because of this, and we’re going to put it away forever. Okay? Go on.”  
   
Chris’s breath is shaky, but he does what she asks. “I’m dating a man. I’m in love with a man.”  
   
Smiling, she repeats, “I love you exactly the same as I have since the day you were born.”  
   
He knew that already, he’s always known it, but it shakes his foundations anyway. It takes effort to keep from crying again.  
   
“Now.” She takes his left hand, holds it between both of hers and squeezes. “You’re in love. What an incredible thing. Tell me about him.”  
   
Chris feels his face break into a smile. This is a conversation they’ve had before. He’s sat on this couch a dozen times, excitedly telling her all about his first kiss, and the girl he had a crush on in senior year, and every other time he’s been caught up in something exciting. The important difference this time isn’t the gender of the person, it’s that all those other times, he thought he knew what love really was, and he was wrong. Those times were nothing like this.  
   
“His name is Sebastian.”  
   
She whistles. “That’s so elegant! I love it. And he works with you?”  
   
Chris nods. “He’s really smart. Every time he publishes something new, everyone loses their minds over how good it is.”  
   
“Handsome?” she asks, her eyes twinkling.  
   
Chris digs in his back pocket for his phone, scrolls for a moment looking for a picture where they aren’t kissing, or half naked. He finds a selfie they’d taken last weekend in Chris’s backyard. Sebastian’s hair is tousled from the wind and his cheeks are flushed from the cold. Chris is making a bit of a goofy face, but he looks happy in it. He was happy, that afternoon.   
   
He shows it to her, and she inhales. “Those eyes!”  
   
“I know.” Chris is grinning like an idiot, and he can’t help it at all.  
   
“You better keep him satisfied or I might try to steal him from you.”  
   
Laughing, Chris takes his phone back, and then does flip to a picture where they’re kissing. Hayley had taken it a few weeks back at her house, and sent it to him. Chris had stared at it for ten full minutes after receiving the text, his heart fluttering in his chest. He wants to get it framed and look at it every day. They’re in a sofa chair, Sebastian in Chris’s lap, his hands cupping Chris’s jaw and their lips pressed together. Chris’s hand squeezing his thigh, eyes closed, wrapped up in each other so much that they didn’t notice as they were photographed. It wasn’t leading anywhere, because they were in a friend’s living room, but Chris remembers in that moment not caring that people could see. He’d wanted to kiss Sebastian so much he felt like he might explode if he didn’t.  
   
He shows Lisa, and her eyes go soft. “Oh, honey. Look how happy you are.”  
   
“I love him so much.” Chris doesn’t even try to keep the waver out of his voice.  
   
“You better tell me he’s heard you say that.”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris nods. “Kinda recently, but. Yeah, I told him.”  
   
“He said it back?”  
   
“He said it first, actually.”  
   
Her hands go to her chest, and then she sets his phone on the coffee table and pulls him in for another hug. “I’m so thrilled for you.”  
   
“Can I bring him here? To meet you guys?”  
   
She cuffs him on the back of the head. “Don’t ask stupid questions. Bring him over this afternoon if you want. I’ve got about 15 hugs with his gorgeous name on them.”  
   
“I don’t think he can come this afternoon.”  
   
“Next weekend, then, for Thanksgiving! Everyone will be here. They’ll all want to meet him.”  
   
There’s pounding on the door, and Scott’s distant voice calling, “Can I fucking come in yet?”  
   
“Oh fuck.” Chris had entirely forgotten he’d left Scott and Dodger waiting in the car. He sits up and yells back, “Yes! Sorry!”  
   
Scott bursts through the door with the dog, and points accusingly at Chris. “You forgot about me, didn’t you?”  
   
“Yes. Completely.”  
   
“Dick.” Scott shuts the door behind himself and shucks out of his winter clothes. “Everything okay in here?”  
   
“Of course.” Lisa touches Chris’s hair. “I have a gay and a bisexual now, all I need is one of your sisters to be a lesbian and I’ll have the whole set.”  
   
“They’re both married to men,” Scott points out.  
   
“One of the grandkids, then.”  
   
“Okay, we’ll get right on converting them. I think I’ve got some pamphlets in my car.” Scott flops down on the couch on Chris’s other side.  
   
“Show him the picture, the kissing one.” Lisa nudges Chris’s arm.  
   
Chris does, and Scott grabs his phone and zooms in closer, right on their faces. “Oh, what the fuck. This is hot, you actually showed this to Mom?”  
   
“It’s sweet!” Lisa protests. “They’re fully clothed. But look how happy he looks, his man all in his lap like that.”  
   
“Look, there’s tongue,” Scott says gleefully, zooming in as far as the picture will let him. “His tongue is  _in_ your mouth.”  
   
“O-kay,” Chris says loudly, snatching his phone back.  
   
“How is he?” Scott teases, poking Chris’s bicep relentlessly. “What else does that tongue do, Chris, is he good with it?”  
   
“You really wanna do that in front of our mother?” Chris asks.  
   
“Fine, I will leave so you can discuss it,” Lisa says, standing up. “You are being safe, though, right?”  
   
“Not like he can get somebody knocked up,” Scott points out.  
   
She points at both of them, in turn, like a school teacher about to give them detention. “Sexually transmitted diseases are statistically higher in gay men. You  _both_  better be out there being smart, do you hear me?”  
   
“Yes, Ma.” Scott rolls his eyes, and that earns him an extra point of her finger.  
   
“You, especially. He’s in a committed relationship, you’re the one still sleeping around.”  
   
Scott makes a wounded noise and she leaves without waiting for him to reply.  
   
Chris cracks up as soon as she’s gone. “Mom just called you a slut.”  
   
“Yes, she did. Very rude, I might add.” Scott turns to him, and that smile is back. “Okay, for real, though. Tell me.”  
   
“I’m not telling you what he does with his tongue,” Chris says flatly.  
   
“It’s good, though, right?” Scott pokes him again. “Not just that, I mean all of it.”  
   
Chris’s cheeks flush and he looks down, and Scott cackles and claps his hands.  
   
“Knew it. He’s got you fucked up.”  
   
“Shut up,” Chris mumbles.  
   
“No, I’m – I’m teasing, okay, but for real. I’m really serious, man. You …” he picks Chris’s phone back up, and opens the picture again, holding it up. “This? Mom’s right, look at you. In a room full of people, lost in each other. This is incredible. This is like – love, like the real kind. The stay-together-till-one-of-you-dies kind.”  
   
Chris does look at the picture again, and nods, and warmth spreads down his limbs. “Yeah. It is. We hadn’t said it, yet, when that was taken. But it is.”  
   
“I’m really happy for you. Honestly.”  
   
“Thanks.” Chris leans back on the couch with a smile on his face, and Scott reclines next to him and throws his feet up on the coffee table. “It is … I’m still not telling you about his tongue. But. It’s, when we’re, y’know. It’s pretty fucking amazing.”  
   
Scott groans. “I’m unbelievably jealous. Does he have a brother?”  
   
“Unfortunately not.”  
   
“What about a … sexy uncle?”  
   
Chris snickers. “There’s something legitimately wrong with you.”  
   
Scott whacks him on the elbow, and gets up to follow Lisa into the kitchen, complaining about starving almost all the way to death. Chris leans his head back and closes his eyes for a moment, letting a deep, cleansing breath sweep through him. When he opens his eyes again, he smiles up at the ceiling.  
   
There are six missed calls and dozens of texts on his phone from Sebastian when Chris checks it, and he swears to himself. Leaving in the middle of the night and not telling anyone where he’s going maybe wasn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had. He clicks on one of the alerts to call him back, and Sebastian answers on the first ring.

“Chris.” He says something that sounds like a curse to God, in Romanian. “Are you okay?”  
   
“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m in Boston. Sorry, I should’ve told you that.”  
   
“Oh. Shit, is everyone alright?” Sebastian sounds so concerned, and Chris realizes the most logical reason for someone to have driven to their parents’ house three hours away on a moment’s notice is because someone died or is in the hospital.  
   
He exhales. “No, nothing like that, everyone is fine.”  
   
Sebastian is quiet for a moment, like he’s trying to add up the numbers in his head can’t. “We had plans today …”  
   
Chris had completely forgotten that until just this second. “Fuck. We did.”  
   
“I went by your place to pick you up and you weren’t there, and then you weren’t answering your phone. I thought something had happened, I was about to call the police.”  
   
Chris groans and swears again. He drops down onto the twin bed in his childhood room and puts his head in his free hand. “God, I’m – fuck, Sebastian, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot, I … fuck. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”  
   
“Chris, what’s going on?” Sebastian asks gently. “Why are you in Boston?”  
   
“I came here to tell my family. About you, about … us.”  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian breathes heavily. “Really?”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
“You were with me less than 24 hours ago, when did you …?”  
   
“Right after I left.” Chris laughs at himself. It sounds so ridiculous, now. “I went back to my house, and I picked up Dodger, and I just drove here. I didn’t even think about it, I was on the highway before it even occurred to me what I was doing. It was after midnight when I got to Scott’s place.”  
   
“It couldn’t have waited until morning?” Sebastian asks, making the same valid point Scott had last night, but his chuckle is fond.  
   
“No,” Chris says honestly.  
   
“Why not?”  
   
“You said you loved me.”  
   
Sebastian pauses. “I did. I do.”  
   
“I know.” Chris feels himself smile, feels warmth spread in his chest. “I know, and my family means so much to me, and I’ve been hiding who I am from them for so long. I hated it, but not enough to sack up and do anything about it. I’ve been so scared of this, for years. But then you said you love me, and suddenly I just … I didn’t want to hide it anymore.”  
   
“Oh,” Sebastian says again. His sigh sounds laced with barely contained emotion. “Sweetheart …”  
   
He’s never used that particular term of endearment before, and Chris likes it. Loves it. Lights up inside over it. “M’sorry I stood you up. What a jerk, right?”  
   
“You could’a let me know you were leaving town,” Sebastian admits. Chris can hear him smiling. “But I’m  proud of you. How did they take it?”  
   
“Amazing. Which I should have known all along.”  
   
“Hey, you did it. Don’t beat yourself up over that. Okay? Who cares if it took you a long time. This is a hard thing to do, no matter who you are. And you did it.”  
   
Tears threaten at the corners of Chris’s eyes again. “Thank you. I love you.”  
   
“Me too.”  
   
“They wanna meet you. They want you to come next weekend, if you can. Your family doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, right? It’s an American thing?”  
   
“They don’t, but I promised Hayley …” Sebastian sounds regretful. “Sorry, I would have invited you too, I just figured you’d be with your family and I didn’t want to make you choose, or feel guilty.”  
   
“Oh.” Chris shakes his head, even though Sebastian can’t see him through the phone. “No, it’s okay. Another time.”  
   
“You sure? I could cancel.”  
   
“Hayley would cut my nuts off and put them in a jar.”  
   
Sebastian laughs, giggly and sweet. “Yes, she would. Okay, the weekend after?”  
   
“I’ll make sure, but I bet that’ll work.”  
   
“Good.”  
   
Chris feels like he’s glowing. “Seb, they’re gonna love you so much.”  
   
“I hope so.”  
   
“I know so.”  
   
“When are you coming back?”  
   
“I guess tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon, I don’t know. I didn’t exactly think this through all the way.”  
   
Sebastian laughs softly. “You never do.”  
   
“I know.”  
   
“Can I come over for dinner?”  
   
“Yeah, of course. I wanna see you.”  
   
“Good. Text me when you’re close. I’ll meet you at your place.”  
   
Chris nods. “Okay. Deal.”  
   
Sebastian is sitting on the doorstep when Chris pulls up in his car the next day. He pushes the passenger’s side door open to let Dodger out, who runs over to greet Sebastian excitedly. Sebastian gets up to pet him, laughing as Dodger jumps up and bumps his head into Sebastian’s hands. Chris watches with his heart swelling.  
   
He gets out too, and walks over. “How long have you been waiting there?”  
   
Sebastian shrugs. “Maybe ten minutes.”  
   
He’s definitely lying. His bright pink cheeks tell a very different story. Chris pulls him into a kiss, full-bodied and scorching, not caring for a second that they’re out in public where anyone could see. He  _hopes_  his neighbors are watching through their windows. The whole entire world could be watching, for all Chris cares.  
   
Sebastian’s lips are cold against his, and he’s breathless when Chris pulls back; wide-eyed and so beautiful Chris wants to take him right here on the front lawn, in the snow. “Miss me a bit?” Sebastian jokes, but his voice wavers.  
   
“A lot.”  
   
Shaking his head and smiling, Sebastian drags his thumb over Chris’s bottom lip and then follows it with his own lips. “I’m so, so proud of you,” he whispers, repeating what he’d said on the phone the day before. “So fucking proud, you don’t even know.”  
   
*           *           *


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas if you celebrate it!
> 
> For the sake of credit where it's due, the two books mentioned in this chapter are _Atlantic History: Concept and Contours_ by Bernard Bailyn, and _The Many-Headed Hydra: Sailors, Slaves, Commoners, and the History of the Revolutionary Atlantic_ by Peter Linebaugh and Marcus Rediker. (On the off chance anyone is actually interested in the type of history I've made Sebastian an expert in, Linebaugh and Rediker's work is fantastic.)

Sebastian heads downstairs, shirtless and in Chris’s boxers, following the noise from the floor below and finding Chris in the kitchen. He’s running the water, rinsing off their dishes from last night, and loading them into the dishwasher. He’s shirtless too, but with loose plaid pajama pants on, sitting low on his hips, and Sebastian appreciates the view for a moment before Chris notices him.  
   
“Mornin’” he says once he does, smiling that soft smile.  
   
Sebastian returns it. He goes over and Chris’s hands go to his waist like it’s automatic. He leans in for a kiss, and Sebastian hums into it when the dull bloom of pain accompanies the touch. Chris looks at him quizzically. “I think you broke my mouth. Kissin’ me like you were trying to kill me.”  
   
“Oh.” It’s soft and reverent, and his eyes drop to Sebastian’s lips.   
   
Sebastian knows they’re still red. He’d noticed in the bathroom mirror. Chris had been ravenous, the night before. The high of saying  _I love you_ , followed so immediately by driving to Boston in the middle of the night to spill to his family the secret – the  _truth_  – he’d been hiding about himself, had left Chris a dangerous mix of off-balance and insatiable. He’d been so needy, dragging Sebastian into the house and kissing him senseless against the inside of his front door. Vulnerable, because important, fragile feelings are out in the open air now, and he can’t take them back if he’s burned by the people he’s choosing to trust. But also  _happy_ , in a way Sebastian hadn’t seen yet from him. Sebastian loving him back, and his family accepting who he is, and that big heart of Chris’s was so full Sebastian could practically see it glowing on his skin, bursting out of every laugh and every crinkle of his eyes. He’d pulled Sebastian up the stairs and they’d stayed in bed together for hours.  
   
“Not the only part of me that’s bruised,” Sebastian jokes with a shrug, and the chuckle he gets in return is dark and gritty. He can feel the spots on his hips where Chris had dug his fingers in last night while he pounded into him. Chris’s fingers find the spots now, and press on them gently, just enough to feel it. Sebastian inhales, and watches the moment that Chris switches from affectionate to turned on.  
   
“I got a little carried away.” He has the wherewithal to sound apologetic, but Sebastian had been there last night, too. He knows how far gone Chris was, and he loved every second of it.  
   
“I don’t mind it rough sometimes,” Sebastian tells him, draping his arms over Chris’s big shoulders. Interest is already stirring in his gut, because Chris is staring at his lips like he wants to devour them.  
   
Chris flicks his eyes up to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Oh yeah?”  
   
“Maybe I even like it.”  
   
Chris licks the pad of his thumb and runs it over Sebastian’s lower lip, following it with his eyes. Sebastian’s stomach drops, watching Chris’s eyes darken and his breath hitch. Sebastian kisses his thumb and then sucks it into his mouth. Chris breathes heavy through his nose, and Sebastian wasn’t expecting a second round – or, if rounds are orgasms, a fourth round – in the morning, but his body is more than on board for it. He drags his teeth lightly along Chris’s finger, grinning to himself when Chris’s other hand slides around to the small of his back and pulls him in closer, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband on the boxers. The middle one pushes between the cheeks of Sebastian’s ass, not pushing inside, just touching, just resting there. It’s sensitive there, too, after the hours of attention Chris had paid to him last night. There’s something possessive about the way Chris just holds him, staking his claim on Sebastian’s body with his fingers and his intense gaze.  
   
“Can’t handle you,” Chris whispers to him, sounding just as head-rushed as Sebastian feels.  
   
Sebastian lets Chris’s thumb slip from his mouth and tilts his face forward to press a kiss to his lips. He wouldn’t care if Chris started biting at them again, but he doesn’t. He kisses back gently, careful with Sebastian’s over-worked skin, and then he’s sinking slowly to his knees, nuzzling his nose against Sebastian’s interested cock through the worn cotton. Sebastian blows out a breath and steadies himself with hands in Chris’s hair, messy from sleep and soft without product in it. Chris mouths at him, maintaining eye contact as he does, those beautiful blue eyes almost reduced to black, irises nearly disappeared around blown pupils. When the fabric is damp and Sebastian is hard enough to be leaking and contributing to the mess of Chris’s spit, Chris slides the boxers down and sucks Sebastian into his mouth, his head bobbing slow and deliberate. He keeps right on looking up at Sebastian through his thick eyelashes, so Sebastian moves his tongue over his lips just to make Chris moan around him.  
   
He’s ten minutes late for his first class.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“Alright, the essay.” Sebastian checks his watch. Ten minutes left, enough time to go over the assignment he’d emailed them last week, and take any questions, before they all leave for the Thanksgiving break. He goes to his bag on the desk, and pulls out the two books he’d assigned them to write about. He holds them up. “Everybody managed to find them at the bookstore?”  
   
A round of nods, and a few blank stares from the ones who aren’t paying attention. Sebastian can’t say he has too much sympathy for them. He doesn’t expect everyone to be an advanced scholar in their undergrad, but he can’t be bothered with the ones who have made it to their third year of study by barely scraping by. It’s the legacies, usually, who employ this model of study. They’ll graduate in five years with a three year Bachelor’s degree and a C average, and if modern history continues to follow the pattern, go on to be Senators and Congressmembers and the damn President. He generally doesn’t bother with them, unless they specifically ask for help. This isn’t grade school, and he isn’t Robin Williams in Dead Poet’s Society. The ones in the front half of the classroom, with rapt attention and thoughtful questions, who got here on well-earned scholarships instead of Daddy’s money; they’re the ones Sebastian cares about. He joked, with Chris, about having rich parents, but in truth his Step-Father never gave a cent to any of the universities Sebastian attended. He earned his spot, and he has little patience for those who didn’t.  
   
“What’s important to remember about the Bailyn, is that it’s a more traditional analysis. Bailyn was one of the pioneers of Atlantic History, in the 1990s when it was a brand new field of study. He approaches it through the lens of a more traditional historiographical method. Linebaugh and Rediker approach the same topic with a more modern scope, even though their book is older.” He notices a hand up in the third row, and points to Lauren, indicating she can ask her question.  
   
“It’s history from below, isn’t it? The way they tell it?”  
   
“Exactly. They put faces to it. They tell us individual stories, they give personality to the history by showing us the ways that ordinary people lived and worked and negotiated their spaces. Let’s talk about the metaphor of the Hydra they use, before we go, because it’s integral to their analysis.”  
   
“Hail Hydra!” a mail voice yells, from toward the back of the room.  
   
The students laugh, and Sebastian does too. “Yeah, unfortunately, we’re not talking about Captain America this time. Also, Hydra in the comics is meant to represent the Nazi party, isn’t it? So maybe not the best thing to yell out in a room full of people.”  
   
More laughter, and he locates the blushing face of the guilty student.  
   
He points to the Linebaugh and Rediker, and reads the title of the book. “ _The Many-Headed Hydra_. Who’s figured out what that means, in the context of their study?”  
   
A few hands raise, including the boy who’d just disrupted the class with a joke about Marvel Comics. Sebastian choses him, figuring he deserves a chance to redeem himself.  
   
Matt clears his throat, and speaks like he’s trying to sound more confident than he is. “A Hydra is a monster in Greek mythology that grows three more heads every time one is cut off. So when they talk about …” he looks down at his own copy of the book, and reads the rest of the title, “sailors, slaves, and commoners, they’re talking about … people in the Atlantic world didn’t fit in boxes. They were and multicultural, and they moved around, and …”  
   
He trails off, looking like he’s second guessing the words coming out of his mouth.  
   
Sebastian sits on the desk and shakes his head, encouraging. “No, you’re on the right track. Keep going.”  
   
A deep breath, and then Matt sounds a little more sure of himself. “They were all the different heads of the Hydra. All the different groups, the slaves and the revolutionaries and the sailors and the creole leaders, and … they were all heads, but they operated in the same economic and social system. The body of the Hydra is the Atlantic world. It’s what connected them.”  
   
“Very well put,” Sebastian says, with a smile. Matt looks down at his desk, but seems pleased with himself. He tells the rest of the class, “I want comparative analysis. The things we talked about today are the surface points of comparison between the two different books. I want you looking deeper. Find me specific points of contention, places where you can compare both their style of analysis and also the material they’re using. Look at the footnotes, think about the types of source material.”  
   
He checks his watch again. “We’re out of time. Have a great Thanksgiving, guys. Take a break, have fun with your families, but don’t leave this until the last minute, okay? You can reach me by email over the weekend if you have questions.”  
   
A few more nods, and the general din and clutter of the class packing up their belongings and filtering out of the room. A few of them wish him Happy Thanksgiving as they pass. Sebastian packs up as well, once he’s alone in the classroom, and heads out of the building and toward the Starbucks on the older part of campus, where he’s meeting his friends. He spots them at the other end of the café. Chris and Hayley already have drinks in front of them, but Anthony is just arriving as well, reaching out a hand for Chris to take in greeting and then kissing Hayley’s cheek. Sebastian watches from the entrance for a moment, as Chris teases Anthony about a turkey made of construction paper that’s safety-pinned to Anthony’s chest. He can’t hear Anthony’s answer, but they’re all smiling. It warms Sebastian inside as it always does, to see Chris so accepted by his best friends. He’s been allowing himself to entertain thoughts, lately, about this being something he always secretly wanted, but never knew he needed quite so badly.  
   
He’s walking up to their table just in time to hear Anthony groaning, “are we ever  _not_ talking about that? I love y’all, but really, do you and Seabass think you’re the first people to ever get emotional boners for each other?”  
   
Chris cracks up, and Hayley looks mildly offended but still fights to keep a smile off her face. Sebastian can see it in the way the corners of her mouth twitch.  
   
“Speaking of.” Anthony nods over Chris’s shoulder.  
   
Sebastian materializes at Chris’s side, and in a hushed but tense voice, he says to Anthony, “do you realize I just heard you say the word boner from across the room? There are students  _everywhere_ , you could at least pretend to be capable of some semblance of professionalism.”  
   
“Ooh, Professor Big Words,” Anthony teases, and Hayley smacks his arm.  
   
Sebastian shakes his head, and then looks down at Chris. “Hi. I’m sorry I ever introduced you to them.”  
   
“I’m not.” Chris reaches out to cup Sebastian’s hip in his hand. “Hi.”  
   
Sebastian’s annoyance melts into a smile, and he leans down to kiss Chris hello, full on the lips and right in front of their friends, and whoever else might be watching in this very, very public space. Chris holds him there with a hand around the back of Sebastian’s neck. He forgets himself a little and slips his tongue into Sebastian’s mouth, only remembering that he shouldn’t when Sebastian makes a surprised noise around it and reluctantly pulls away.  
   
“Do I have to also remind  _you_  that we’re on campus and surrounded by teenagers?” Sebastian asks, rubbing through Chris’s beard with his thumb.  
   
“A whole ass semblance of professionalism,” Anthony muses dryly.  
   
Chris laughs again, dropping his head down to Sebastian’s stomach.  
   
“Shut up,” Sebastian threatens. “I’m getting coffee, what do you want?”  
   
“Two sugars,” Anthony answers.  
   
“Disgusting,” Sebastian returns, and pulls out of Chris’s grasp to head for the counter. Anthony calls something after him about a shot of hazelnut syrup, and Sebastian barely resists refusing on principle alone. These people ruin the integrity of the product with their sucrose and their chemical sweeteners, and it offends him to his core. He comes back minutes later with two coffees in white ceramic mugs, and sets the sugary one down in front of Anthony.  
   
“We’ll miss you,” Hayley is saying to Chris. She brings the mug up to her lips, sipping steaming tea. She, at least, doesn’t like coffee, so Sebastian doesn’t have to chastise her for destroying it with milk. “But Sebastian says you’re really close with your family? So it’s wonderful that you’ll get to spend four days with them.”  
   
“Yeah, I am.” Chris smiles down at the coffee in his own mug. It’s the Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving. Sebastian will spend the night at Chris’s house, and then in the morning Chris and his dog will head back to Boston. He’s spent a lot of time on the I-84 this week. “You and Anthony don’t spend the holiday with his family?”  
   
“Sometimes we do.” Another sip, red lipstick leaving a stain on the white porcelain. “This year his parents are visiting his sister. We’ll see them at Christmas.”  
   
“How often do you see your family?”  
   
“Over the summer, usually. This past June, Anthony and I spent a few weeks in London, it was the longest I’d been back since I left at 18 to go to Brown.” She grins. “Sebastian was very lonely. I had to take him to Mexico in August to make it up to him, while my husband was in training camp with his team.”  
   
“Hey,” Sebastian complains. “That is not true.”  
   
“Yes it is, darling.”  
   
He grumbles about it, but Chris leans over and kisses the side of his face. “You’re adorable.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian sits on the side of Chris’s bed, scrolling absently through his phone. He has a dozen emails that need answering, and his editor is bothering him for a recent headshot and biography for his book. He’ll deal with them later. Chris is in the bathroom, the shower still running, and he’d given Sebastian such a heated look before he disappeared up the stairs that Sebastian is having trouble concentrating on much of anything else. He swipes his thumb over the glass surface to move through Twitter, but barely reads anything in particular detail. Trump is being an idiot. Climate change is getting worse by the minute. It’s all the same, and since he can’t personally do much about it, reading about it is more stressful than informative. He tosses his phone to the mattress beside him as he hears the water shut off.  
   
Chris has been different, these last three days. He’s been  _more_ , of all the good things about him. He’s like the person Sebastian fell in love with, but with the volume turned up. More enthusiastic, laughing louder, smiling wider, touching him every moment they’re together. More affectionate, more loving, more passionate. He’s like sunshine, or a ball of fire, or an electric current. Magnetic and buoyant and sparkling. Sebastian was already in love with him, but it’s only intensified, and hasn’t even been a full week since they said it out loud for the first time. Sebastian feels different, too. He knows himself – knows he and Chris share a tendency to hold back pieces of themselves as a defense mechanism. Sebastian hasn’t been able to abandon that completely, but he can feel it slipping. He can feel the promise of what it might be like, some day, to rid himself of it completely.  
   
Chris walks back into the bedroom, completely undressed, half-hard like maybe he’d been playing with himself a little in the shower, grinning at Sebastian. To cover the way the sight makes his stomach drop, Sebastian sticks two fingers into his mouth and whistles like a cat-calling construction worker.  
   
“Who, me?” Chris jokes, coming over to him, putting his hands on Sebastian’s shoulders and leaning down to kiss him.  
   
“I like seeing you like this,” Sebastian tells him, dragging his fingertips up Chris’s thighs, and around to his hips.  
   
“Naked?”  
   
“Confident. Happy.”  
   
“It’s you.” Chris runs his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, and his cocky smile fades into something softer.  
   
“Not entirely. Give yourself credit, you did a brave thing over the weekend, and that was all you.”  
   
“Thank you.” Chris kisses him again, easy and sweet. “I guess it’s everything. I’d been walking around with all this weight on my shoulders, and I don’t think I realized how heavy it was until it was gone. Everything’s lighter, now. But it’s also you. Being with you makes me feel … free.”  
   
Sebastian pushes up to his feet so he can get his arms properly around Chris and kiss him harder. “That’s such a nice thing to say.”  
   
“It’s true.” Chris shrugs, and he’s still smiling. It feels like he hasn’t stopped smiling for three days. “I’ve always been anxious, I’ve always worried too much about what everyone thinks. I think I always will. But when I’m around you it feels like I can just exist. All that other stuff melts away.”  
   
“That makes me so happy.” Sebastian cups his face and brings it in closer, kissing the tip of Chris’s nose. “I love you.”  
   
“I know you do.” Chris pulls Sebastian’s shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. “Want you.”  
   
“Got me, sweetheart,” Sebastian promises; misunderstanding.  
   
“No.” Chris laughs and shakes his head. He wraps his arms back around Sebastian’s waist and kisses him again. He takes Sebastian’s hand and guides it around to the back of himself. “ _Want_  you.”  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian blinks, arousal flooding his veins. They haven’t done that, yet. Sebastian doesn’t know why they haven’t. They’ve done nearly everything else, and Chris had said a long time ago that he wanted it. There isn’t a reason they haven’t, they just haven’t.  
   
“I already … in the shower.” Chris’s cheeks flush but he maintains eye contact.  
   
“What?” Sebastian asks. He isn’t asking what Chris means, he’s just having a hard time breathing, suddenly, imagining Chris in the shower stall with fingers pressed into himself.  
   
Chris reaches behind himself and nudges Sebastian’s hand lower. Sebastian slips fingertips into the crease and feels how loose and slippery he already is. Blood rushes, heading south. He pushes two fingers inside, just to the second knuckle, even though Chris said he didn’t need to, just because he wants to feel it.  
   
“Wanted you …” Chris pauses as his breath catches in his throat, when Sebastian spreads his fingers apart to test the resistance, “… to be able to just slide right in. Didn’t want to waste any time.”  
   
“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes. His cock throbs between his legs, fully on board with the idea and filling so quickly it leaves him light-headed. “You sure?”  
   
“Would I have fingered myself in the shower if I wasn’t sure?” Chris asks, bright and crude and unembarrassed. He’s smiling, with his eyes closed.  
   
Sebastian doesn’t answer. Chris so relaxed and happy tugs at his heartstrings. He pulls his hand away, and with gentle hands he urges Chris to lie down on his bed. Sebastian shucks out of the remainder of his clothes and stares at him, with his heart racing. The sight of Chris, laid out for him, hard and flushed and leaking and ready, tugs at other things. It fills Sebastian with the need to claim him, to make it so this beautiful man belongs to him and can never belong to anyone else. He fumbles for a condom, and more lube, while Chris idly strokes his own cock. Sebastian knocks his hand away, and Chris opens his eyes to look at him in surprise. “If you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna  _last_  while I fuck you, so hands off.”  
   
Chris’s eyes darken and his lips part, and he nods quickly.  
   
Sebastian grins at him, predatory heat spreading in his chest. He climbs over Chris, on his hands and knees hovering above him, dipping down to just barely brush their lips together. He reaches between them to take hold of himself, around the base, so he can smear the head between Chris’s ass cheeks, spreading slippery lube over him but not pushing in; not yet.  
   
“Can’t believe you did that,” he whispers. He gently bites Chris’s bottom lip, and drags the head of his cock over Chris’s hole, just enough to catch on the rim, and his stomach clenches at the whimper it draws from Chris. “Pushing your fingers in, getting yourself all ready for me, while I was sitting out here with no idea. Were you thinkin’ about me, while you did it?”  
   
“Yeah. ‘Course I was.” Chris’s hands move over Sebastian’s back, blunt fingernails digging in.  
   
“Tell me,” Sebastian prompts, with a kiss to the corner of Chris’s mouth.  
   
“Just this. Thinkin’ about this. Can’t … stop teasing, okay, just fuck me. Please,” he adds, in a small voice, like he thinks there’s a possibility Sebastian will change his mind at the last minute and not give him what he’s brave enough to be asking for.  
   
For just a moment, it breaks Sebastian’s heart. He shakes it off, though, and refuses to let it ruin the moment. Without another word on the subject, he pushes inside, working slowly past the initial tightness in small, shallow thrusts. Chris’s body pulls him in, while Chris breathes heavily against his cheek, and Sebastian soothes him with kisses all over his face.  
   
“I’m okay,” Chris promises, correctly guessing that Sebastian is worried. “Feels good, keep going.”  
   
Sebastian gets himself all the way in, and moans deep in his throat at the heat, at the way Chris squeezes around him. It’s been a while, since Sebastian’s done this. Since before the start of the semester. Since he met Chris. Everything else feels good, in all sorts of different ways. Nothing feels quite like this.  
   
“Kiss me,” Chris requests softly, and Sebastian does, slow and thorough and life-changing.  
   
“I love you,” Sebastian murmurs to him, as he starts to move, slow, careful rolls of his hips. Chris is vulnerable, like this; surrendering, putting himself in someone else’s hands. Sebastian knows that isn’t an easy thing for him to do, and it aches in his chest in a good way, knowing Chris trusts him. It also leaves him needing to reassure, to make Chris feel safe, and loved. “Everything about you. So sexy I can’t breathe right sometimes when I look at you. And the things you make me feel …”  
   
“Seb,” Chris says on a breathless moan. His arms and legs wrap around Sebastian’s back, holding on, keeping Sebastian close to him, as if Sebastian had any intention of moving.  
   
Sometimes to Sebastian it feels like he’s known Chris his entire life, but in moments like this he remembers it hasn’t been very long at all. It takes a few moments to slip into a rhythm that works, but when they find it, it leaves Sebastian dizzy. Soft, contented sounds, and mumbled, nonsense words spill from Chris’s mouth. He’s mouthy, usually, but it’s only increased since last weekend.  
   
Sebastian pulls out nearly all the way and shoves himself back in, hard, a few times erratically so Chris can’t get a handle on the pattern. Fondly, he asks, “got a lot to say tonight?”  
   
“Sorry,” Chris mumbles.  
   
“No, no, no.” Sebastian smears kisses to his cheek, his forehead, along his jawline. “Not what I mean. I love it. Never stop talking to me.”  
   
“I love you so much.” Chris finds his lips again for another bruising kiss. “Feels so good, harder, okay, please, just – ”  
   
Sebastian abruptly increases the pace, and delights in the responding groan from underneath him. He loses track of time while they move together, Chris pushing back against him, sounding close to coming a few times so Sebastian cools it down right before he gets too close, leaves Chris skating along that edge, until beads of sweat are gathered along Chris’s hairline and his voice is hoarse from begging Sebastian not to stop and then nearly sobbing when he does.  
   
“Fuck,” Chris rasps, breathless, needy. His hands grip Sebastian’s hair, the back of his neck, his shoulders; anywhere he can reach with shaking hands.  
   
Sebastian drops down to his elbows to kiss him roughly, and then it dissolves into something softer, and he leaves his face against Chris’s as he slows his thrusts down again, to gentle rolls of his hips, giving himself a moment to breathe because he doesn’t want to come just yet and giving Chris a break from the unforgiving pace. Chris’s lips curl into a smile against his, and then he laughs, because he always laughs when he’s happy. It melts Sebastian’s heart.  
   
“Feelin’ good?” he checks, running his nose up Chris’s cheek. It occurs to him that this might be a bit of a first for Chris; if his only other male partner didn’t like topping, he might not have worked Chris like this the few times they did it.  
   
“Yeah,” Chris answers, on another beautiful, breathy laugh. “Although if we don’t finish soon, I might not be able to walk all weekend.”  
   
“Hm.” Sebastian drags his lips over Chris’s jaw, through the soft brown hairs. He grinds forward, hearing the hitch of Chris’s breath when he grazes the spot inside. “Maybe that was my plan. Maybe I want you to remember me, don’t want you to sit down all weekend without thinkin’ about me.”  
   
Whatever retort Chris had prepared falls into a moan as Sebastian rolls his hips again. Sebastian pushes himself up to his hands and then sits back onto his knees so he can look down at Chris, sweat dappled along his defined chest, a flush extending from his neck to his navel, muscles clenching every time Sebastian moves inside him. His cock looks mistreated even though Sebastian’s barely touched it, so he does now. He slowly rubs the pad of his thumb along the underside, pressing into heated, reddened skin. Chris swears again and his eyes close. He’s so beautiful like this, when he gives up all that tightly curated control. He’s only done it a few times, but Sebastian is addicted to it. He loves Chris any way he wants to give himself over; he loves when Chris is in the driver’s seat as well. But this Chris, Sebastian has decided, is his favorite. It isn’t so easy for him to hand over the reigns, but when he does, there’s freedom in the release.  
   
Especially now. Sebastian hadn’t realized it, but looking back he’s figured out how much they were both holding back, before their mutual confessions of love. Sebastian had felt it long before he’d worked up the nerve to say it, so he’d been worried if he let go too completely while they were together like this, he’d get lost in the moment and blurt out something he couldn’t take back. He didn’t know Chris was doing the same, until he wasn’t anymore. The noises Chris lets spill from his mouth are louder, the words freer and far less self-conscious, like he finally feels safe to just drown in sensation and let his mouth come out with anything his brain can supply. Chris is so much happier, since they said it, and Sebastian wishes he’d said it sooner, because an uninhibited Chris is a beautiful thing.  
   
“You’re so gorgeous,” Sebastian says, picking up one of Chris’s legs and lifting it so he can kiss the inside of his knee.  
   
“Look who’s talkin’,” Chris returns, easy Boston drawl and a smile on his face.  
   
“Yeah?” Sebastian rubs his calf, hooks Chris’s leg over his shoulder so he can keep nuzzling it. He pushes his knees a little further under Chris’s hips, tilting them back, fucking Chris lazily at a nicer angle.  
   
Chris’s eyes close for a moment as Sebastian lightly grazes spots inside him again. “Yeah. Walked into that teachers’ lounge … thought … you and Hayley were both so hot, one of you was definitely gonna ruin my life.”  
   
Just to watch the reaction on that wonderfully expressive face, Sebastian unpredictably pulls halfway out and thrusts in hard, and he isn’t disappointed. Chris moans and swears and his head tips back. Chris reaches for him with shaky hands, and Sebastian lets his leg fall so he can lean back down. He drapes himself over Chris, once again held up on his elbows so he can bring their lips together. Chris’s arms go around his neck, possessive, keeping him there as his tongue dips into Sebastian’s mouth.  
   
“You wanna come?” Sebastian whispers.  
   
“Yeah,” Chris whispers back.  
   
“Like this?”  
   
“Think you can manage it?”  
   
It’s both a question and a challenge, and Sebastian smiles against Chris’s mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. Hang on.”  
   
Sebastian finds the right angle and gives it every ounce of energy he has left, fucking Chris hard and quick and unrelenting until he’s writhing beneath him and coming with a shout, and the spasming of muscle around Sebastian’s cock tips him over the cliff too. The orgasm punches out of him, hard and unexpected like missing a step in the dark. He collapses beside Chris once the last dregs of it twitch through his body, and laughs unsteadily along with Chris as his chest heaves.  
   
“Fuck,” Chris surmises, and Sebastian thinks that does about sum it all up nicely.  
   
Once he’s caught his breath, Sebastian rolls onto his hip, dips his head down and licks up the mess Chris made on his stomach. Chris makes a hungry little sound in the back of his throat and buries his fingers in Sebastian’s hair. When he’s clean, Sebastian moves back up, a little of Chris’s release still in his mouth so he can push it into Chris’s in a messy kiss, let Chris taste himself. It starts out quick and dirty with Chris’s fingers still tugging in his hair, but then melts into soft and sweet, Sebastian pressed up against him, sweat and naked skin. His face goes into Chris’s neck, and Chris rubs his back with one hand and keeps stroking his hair with the other. Sebastian shivers a little, not from the temperature but from how nice Chris’s hands feel on him while his skin is still prickly and reactive.  
   
“You like being pet, huh?” Chris asks, a sweet, teasing lilt to his voice.  
   
“I am a cat person,” Sebastian reminds him, and Chris hums and scratches his fingernails along Sebastian’s scalp.  
   
“I don’t wanna be the kind of dork that says thank you after sex, but.” Chris laughs, at himself, a low chuckle that rumbles through his chest under Sebastian’s ear.  
   
“Don’t have to thank me. I had fun too, in case you missed that.”  
   
Chris rolls onto his side so they’re face to face on the pillow, keeping his arms around Sebastian as best he can and drawing him in for a slow, thorough kiss. “Not what I meant.”  
   
“I know.” Sebastian cups his cheek, rubs his thumb over soft skin. “I … I know.”  
   
“I love you,” Chris whispers to him.  
   
“I love you, too.”  
   
“All the cracks other people left in me, you’re sealing them all back up. I want you to know that.”  
   
“I am?”  
   
“Yeah. I hope I’m doing the same for you.”  
   
“I don’t know if I ever would have thought to put it in those words, but … yes. You are.”  
   
“Good.” Chris kisses him again. “That’s good.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
It’s just after 2PM and Sebastian is pleasantly buzzed, the gentle, warming thrum of alcohol running smooth through his veins. Anthony is laughing on the couch beside him, at something Hayley had said that Sebastian didn’t pay close enough attention to. When he looks over, his friends’ eyes are glazed as well. Sooner or later, Hayley will announce that she’s cutting them off until after dinner, like she did last year, so they don’t end up so drunk that they can’t appreciate all the work she’s put into cooking for them. Sebastian didn’t mind last year, and he won’t mind this year either. He isn’t here to drink until he can’t walk. It isn’t a party. He’s here to be with his friends, his second family.   
   
He misses Chris. It’s been approximately six hours since they last saw each other, when they’d kissed goodbye this morning before Chris loaded up a suitcase and Dodger into his truck and headed for the interstate. They both have busy jobs, and they don’t technically live together, so this is far from the first time they’ve gone six hours without seeing each other, so Sebastian shouldn’t miss him. He does anyway. As much as he loves Hayley and Anthony, Chris has become a fixture in his life – in  _their_ lives. He knows the other two feel the same way. For years, they were happy as could be, just the three of them, the little family they’d created out of three people who were away from their biological families. At first, Chris was an addition. Now he’s the final puzzle piece, and it feels strange to be here without him. Like something important is missing.  
   
Sebastian looks down at the drink in his hand; caramel colored whiskey in a clear glass, beginning to dilute as the ice melts into it. He wouldn’t be emoting about this quite so dramatically if he were sober. The thought hits him, sideways and unexpected, that this is the drunkest he’s been since things became serious with Chris. They’ve had drinks together, Sebastian isn’t on some kind of wagon and fallen off of it because his boyfriend left town for the weekend. They’d had wine with dinner, and beers during football games, and harder alcohol at dinner parties at Hayley’s or just together at the end of a long day. Chris just isn’t a heavy drinker; Sebastian doesn’t think he’s ever seen Chris fully intoxicated, so he’s settled into the habit of stopping when Chris does, usually after no more than two or three. He’s never felt deprived by it, although maybe that’s because more often than not, nights with Chris end up with them naked in one of their beds, and that’s a better high than any substance. Today, Sebastian’s lost count. This might be six, or maybe seven. He doesn’t know why the thought bothers him. He’s on holidays, he’s in his best friends’ living room, not out at a bar where impaired judgement might lead to bad decisions. There should be nothing wrong with it, but it feels wrong anyhow. Sebastian puts his glass down on the coffee table, and doesn’t pick it back up.  
   
*           *           *


	17. Chapter 17

Lisa pulls Chris into her arms as soon as he walks in the door, with Dodger on his heels. “Two visits in a week, I’m so lucky.”  
   
“Hi Momma.” He hugs her back just as tightly. “At least this one was planned, right? Not like the weekend.”  
   
She shakes her head at him as she pulls back, and holds his face in her hands. Her eyes go misty as she tells him, “I’m so proud of you. And I’m so happy you’re here.”  
   
He nods. His father is a few steps behind her, and Chris hasn’t talked to him about everything yet. He’d been at a conference in New Jersey, last weekend, when Chris showed up out of the blue. Entirely irrationally, Chris had been a little apprehensive about coming out to one more person, and especially his Dad. Not for any real reasons, not because he thinks there’s any chance it would be a problem. He’s just nervous. Lisa will have shared the information already, so there isn’t really anything Chris has to say, and consequently he doesn’t know what to say at all.  
   
In the end, he doesn’t need to say anything. Bob pulls him into a hug as well, holding on tight and clapping him on the back, and saying, “I can’t wait to meet him,” against Chris’s ear.  
   
Chris is left slightly off balance as the hug ends.  
   
“Scott and the girls aren’t here yet, you’re earlier than I thought you’d be.” Lisa is kneeling down on the floor, petting Dodger, and he’s lapping up the attention like he always does. “Not that I’m complaining.”  
   
“Can I help with anything?” Chris asks. He takes his coat off and hangs it in the hall closet.  
   
“Take your bag upstairs, then you can peel some potatoes,” Lisa tells him.  
   
His childhood bedroom is always just the same as he’d left it the day he moved into the residence hall at McGill when he was 18. The same posters on the walls, the same worn books and comics on the shelf, the same New England Patriots bedspread he’d been given as a Christmas present nearly 30 years ago. It’s a lot thinner than it used to be, but Chris can never bring himself to get rid of it, so he just stacks extra blankets underneath when it’s cold outside and a draft leaks in through the old windows. He drops his duffel bag down on his desk, and pulls a sweater out of it to put on over his flannel shirt. It had started snowing heavily as he was driving, giving the fields and trees a distinctly Christmassy atmosphere that Chris had missed so much when he was in California. He never again wants to live somewhere it doesn’t snow at Christmas. Before he leaves the room to head back downstairs, he stares for a moment at his bed, and imagines Sebastian curled up next to him in it, like he will be next weekend. The thought leaves a smile on Chris’s face, that he carries with him down to the kitchen.  
   
“Happy to be home?” Lisa asks, as he walks toward her and she hands him a potato peeler.  
   
“Happy about a lot of things,” Chris answers. He takes the peeler, and then hugs her again, for longer this time. She always smells just like he remembers, like comfort and safety and home.  
   
“I’m so thrilled for you, my angel.” She squeezes tight around his ribcage, and then takes his face in her hands. “What did Sebastian think of your impromptu road trip last weekend?”  
   
“Told me he was proud of me.” Chris’s smile widens. “Kissed me a lot.”  
   
“Good.” She goes up on her toes to kiss his cheek, and then releases him. “Now get peeling, we’ve got a small army to feed.”  
   
Chris peels a mountain of potatoes, and chops them into smaller pieces for boiling, as they chat in the kitchen. They trade stories about their respective students, and she asks a lot of questions about Sebastian, and Chris answers them all with a smile still on his face and warmth billowing in his chest like steam from a shower. After he’s finished and she sends him away until the next time she has a job for him, he finds his Dad in the garage, pumping a jack up underneath his car, with his snow tires laid out in a row along the far wall. Chris takes his sweater off and grabs a wrench, without asking, and goes to the tires.  
   
“Do you rotate them?” he asks.  
   
Bob regards him thoughtfully for just a moment before he answers. “It’s written on the inside, where they go. LR for left rear, and so on.”  
   
“You should rotate them, otherwise they don’t wear evenly.”  
   
“I know that.” Bob raises an eyebrow, but he’s grinning. “Bring me the front right, if you wanna help.”  
   
Chris lifts it, rather than rolling it, and carries it over.  
   
“Show off,” Bob teases.  
   
“It’s not that heavy.”  
   
“Maybe not for you, Superman.”  
   
“Gotta keep it tight, I’m gettin’ old,” Chris jokes, and Bob laughs.  
   
“Yeah, you look terrible.” He sets the jack in place, lifting the front end of his car an inch off the ground. He picks up a wrench from the ground beside him, and starts in on the first lug nut.  
   
“I can do that, if you want,” Chris offers.  
   
“Should I take that to mean you’re suggesting I’m too old to change a tire?”  
   
“No. Just offering to help.”  
   
Bob shrugs, and hands the wrench over. “Knock yourself out.”  
   
Chris takes it, and trades places with him, settling on his knees onto the dirty concrete floor. He fits the socket around six nuts, loosening them enough to slip them off, and lifts the tire away from the wheel so he can fit the heavier, winter-ready one on it instead.  
   
“Did you check the pressure on these?” he asks, knocking a knuckle against the rubber surface.  
   
“Will once they’re on,” Bob answers, typing something on his phone and not looking up at Chris.  
   
“Want me to take it to a gas station?”  
   
Bob does look up, and his eyebrow raises again. “I have a gauge.”  
   
“Oh.” Chris licks his lips and nods, and collapses the jack to take it to the rear of the vehicle to begin working on the next tire.  
   
“Got your winters on yet, since you’re the expert?”  
   
“I have studs.” Chris ignores the jab. He knows he’s being a little overbearing. “Got them in October, figured since I’d be driving back and forth between here and Connecticut all winter, they’d come in handy. For when the snow-pocalypse hits, like it always does.”  
   
Bob hums in response, and watches Chris work.  
   
Chris changes the remaining three tires, sweating by the time he’s finished and with a blister starting on the inside of his thumb, and stacks the summer ones up against the wall with another set that he assumes are for Lisa’s car. He asks if hers need changing as well, and is informed it’s already been done.  
   
Bob takes the wrench from Chris’s hands, and sets it back into his tool box. Chris wipes his forehead with the inside of his wrist, as Bob slides the box back onto a set of metal shelving at the back wall.  
   
“Anything else I can do?”  
   
“You’re supposed to be on holidays.”  
   
Chris shrugs. “I don’t mind.”  
   
Turning back, the look his Dad gives him is caught halfway between exasperated, and sad, and Chris doesn’t know what to make of that.  
   
“Would you like to chop some wood? Grill a few steaks?”  
   
Chris shakes his head. “What?”  
   
“Say you did all that. And maybe, I don’t know, stuck your head under the sink and fixed a leaky pipe. Would that do the trick? Would that be enough to convince you I’ll still see you as a man?”  
   
Chris frowns at him. “That isn’t what I …”  
   
“Yes, it was,” Bob argues gently.  
   
Chris stares at him for a moment, and then it hits him that he’s right. Chris doesn’t really care about cars. He never has. He’s in his parents’ garage, trying to prove something to them both that he shouldn’t care about proving in the first place. Suddenly he feels so small, and so stupid. He leans back against the side of the car, blowing out a breath and rubbing his hands over his face, realizing after that his hands are dirty and probably left grey smudges on his cheeks. “Yeah. Okay.”  
   
Bob leans beside him, briefly reaching over to squeeze Chris’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy. I can’t say I know what you’re going through. But here’s what I do know. And it’s the same thing I told Scott, 20 years ago when he thought the same thing that you’re thinking right now. Who you love isn’t what makes you a man. It’s how you love them that does it.”  
   
Chris swallows thickly.  
   
“You love him?” Bob asks, and Chris nods fervently. “You take care of him? You’d stand up for him if he needed you to, stand by him when things get rough? You let him into your heart, let him know you?”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris nods again. “Yeah, I do.”  
   
“I knew you would.” Bob’s hand is still on Chris’s shoulder, and he squeezes again. “Because I know you’re the man I raised you to be.”  
   
Something inside Chris melts, and he’s both overwhelmed and soothed by the hug his father pulls him into. “Thanks, Dad.”  
   
An hour later, Scott arrives, and twenty minutes after that, Chris’s sisters burst into the house with their husbands and kids and dogs. Chris scoops his nieces and nephews up one by one, hugging them and tossing them into the air as they squeal in delight and demand he do it again. Carly demands Chris show her the picture of him and Sebastian kissing, that Scott had apparently texted them about immediately after Chris left last weekend. The house transforms, into noisy and chaotic, and filled with laughing and loud voices and delicious smells from the kitchen. Chris sits on the floor with his youngest niece in his lap, cuddling her while her brothers chase each other around the coffee table, and soaking it all in. He’d missed this so much.  
   
Chris manages to extract himself from the pandemonium, later in the afternoon, and escapes to the den in the basement for a second to breathe. He’s never once in his adult life wished he were somewhere else while spending a holiday with his family, and even now he doesn’t entirely wish he weren’t here, because he loves his family and he loves being here, but laughing with his siblings and watching the kids play makes him miss Sebastian. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, and clicks on Sebastian’s name in his recent contacts. He isn’t really expecting his call to be answered. Sebastian should be focused on his friends, not checking his phone. He does get an answer, but it isn’t Sebastian.  
   
“Happy Thanksgiving, handsome!” Hayley’s voice says brightly, melodic accent bending the words.  
   
In the background, Sebastian’s voice demands, “give it back!”  
   
“Let me talk to him!” Hayley says, to Sebastian, not to Chris. “One minute, you can’t hog him all the time.”  
   
“He’s  _my_ boyfriend,” Sebastian points out.  
   
There are muffled noises, and what sounds like a door being shut with more force than was probably necessary. Hayley’s voice comes back, a little clearer with a sudden lack of background noise. “There we are. Locked myself in the bathroom. The things a girl has to do around here to get a moment’s peace.”  
   
Chris laughs. “Happy Thanksgiving, Hayley. Having fun with the boys?”  
   
“Yes, but missing one of my favorites. How’s your family?”  
   
“Good. Loud. There are a lot of kids and dogs, between all of us.”  
   
“That sounds lovely. Holidays should have children running around, making messes and annoying their parents.” There’s something almost wistful in her voice, but Chris doesn’t think this is the moment to point out that he notices. He’s also likely not the person she’d talk about it with.  
   
“I miss you guys, too.”  
   
“I was thinking,” Hayley begins. “Since we’ll all be separated at Christmas, you in Boston and Sebastian in New York and Anthony and I in New Orleans with his parents. We should have our own Christmas, the weekend before we all go our separate ways. We have a second bedroom, you and Sebastian could sleep over. We could watch Christmas movies and eat too many candy canes and have Christmas morning the next day.”  
   
Chris’s heart might skip a beat, listening to her. He loves Christmas, a lot more than he’s mentioned to any of them, and had been a little disappointed at the idea of spending it away from Sebastian. He’d figured maybe by next year, they could be together on the actual day, but this year it still felt a little too soon to ask Sebastian to leave his mother and step-father alone. He hadn’t realized it until just now, but spending his favorite holiday away from the other members of his new family would have made him sad as well.  
   
“Chris?” her voice asks, uncertain.  
   
He’s been daydreaming about her idea for long enough to make her worry his lack of response means he hates the idea, and he swears. “No, fuck, Hayley. That sounds amazing. Yes, absolutely let’s do that.”  
   
Hayley’s voice brightens. “Yes? Okay, splendid. I haven’t floated the idea to the others yet, I figured you’d be on board and then you can be in my corner in case they think it’s stupid.”  
   
“They won’t think it’s stupid.”  
   
“Maybe not. But I had a feeling you love Christmas as much as I do.”  
   
“I love it a lot.”  
   
“I could tell, that. You get excited about things. It’s …” she pauses, and her voice is quieter when she continues. Not sad, just thoughtful. “It’s good for Sebastian, I think, to have someone who gets excited about things. He’s spent too long keeping all his emotions locked up tight. You’ve been wonderful for him, I hope you know that. He’s been different, since he met you. More like the person I knew when we were younger.”  
   
Chris nods, and blinks away the sting in his eyes. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”  
   
A banging in the background startles them both, and from far away, Sebastian’s voice calls Hayley’s name.  
   
She laughs. “I think my time is up.”  
   
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Chris says again. “I’ll see you on Monday.”  
   
Hayley returns it, and then the volume of her voice lowers again, like she isn’t holding the phone up to her face anymore. “Yes, fine, here you go.”  
   
“I am going to grill him on what you talked about,” Sebastian’s voice says, accusingly.  
   
“What do you imagine that to be?” she protests. “I was wishing him happy holidays, not in here telling secrets.”  
   
She’s only half-lying, and Chris can’t keep the smile off his face as another scuffle indicates the phone is being handed over and Sebastian takes his turn at being locked in the bathroom.  
   
“What did she say to you?” Sebastian’s voice demands.  
   
“Wished me happy holidays,” Chris repeats. “Told me she thinks I’ve been good for you. Nothing bad.”  
   
There is a long pause, like Sebastian is trying to work out whether Chris is lying. Cautiously, he says, “okay.”  
   
“Oh, I also described to her, in vivid, colorful detail, exactly what your dick looks like,” Chris adds, and bites his bottom lip when Sebastian cracks up. He has such a nice laugh.  
   
“Jerk.”  
   
“I miss you. I’m having a really good time with my family, but I miss you.” Chris laughs at himself and feels his cheeks heat up. “Is that stupid? I saw you literally this morning.”  
   
“I miss you, too. Wish you were here.” Sebastian exhales. “Well. I don’t. I mean, I’m happy you’re with your family, I don’t wish you’d skipped out on being with them, I just …”  
   
“Miss me,” Chris finishes, and Sebastian hums his agreement. “Me too.”  
   
“I keep thinking about this morning.”  
   
“Oh, really?” Chris asks, putting a suggestive lilt to his voice. They’d gotten each other off with their hands in the shower. It hadn’t been planned. They weren’t even planning on shower together, but then Sebastian was so gorgeous naked in Chris’s bathroom, golden skin and lean muscle and sleep-messy hair, and Chris couldn’t resist stepping into the shower with him.  
   
“Not about that.” Sebastian chuckles. “I mean, I guess also about that. Mostly about kissing you goodbye at the door.”  
   
“Was it a particularly good kiss?” Chris asks, struggling to remember if he’d missed something noteworthy in it.  
   
“Not really. Just a regular one. It just felt …”  
   
“Tell me,” Chris pushes gently.  
   
Sebastian exhales, and he almost sounds sad when he continues. “I don’t know. Nice. Domestic. Kissing you goodbye and then watching you drive away. Felt like … we’re something real.”  
   
“We are. Right?”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
Chris frowns. “Sebastian, what’s wrong?”  
   
“Nothing’s wrong.”  
   
“Yes, there is. I can hear it.”  
   
“It’s not really anything wrong.” Another exhale sends static over the line. “Do you ever … have things that you convince yourself you don’t want, because you don’t think you’ll ever get it?”  
   
“You,” Chris answers honestly. “Or, not you specifically, but something like this. Something like what my parents have. I think I was pretty close to giving up on it, before I met you. Resigning myself to the fact that I’m not cut out for it.”  
   
“Oh,” Sebastian says softly, sounding emotional. “Yeah, that’s what I was going to say, too. Didn’t think I’d ever have this. Didn’t think I’d ever miss someone this much after less than 12 hours.”  
   
Chris sits on the worn, shabby sectional couch, tucking one foot up underneath himself and leaning his head back on the cushions. His heart skips several beats in his chest. “Now I miss you even more. Really, really wish I could kiss you right now.”  
   
“I wish you could, too.” There are noises in the background, what sounds like a voice speaking to Sebastian, and then his voice comes back to the microphone. “I have to go, dinner’s almost ready.”  
   
“Probably will be here, soon, too.”  
   
“Have fun with your family. I love you,” Sebastian tells him.  
   
The words are still new enough that they feel like a warm blanket washing over Chris every time he hears them. “I love you, too.”  
   
“Maybe … call me later?” Sebastian asks, the suggestive smile on his face apparent in his voice. “Once you’re in bed?”  
   
Chris grins and chews at his bottom lip. “Okay. I will.”  
   
More scuffling in the background, and Chris can hear Anthony’s voice demanding to speak to him.  
   
He can  _hear_  Sebastian rolling his eyes, from hundreds of miles away. “Your best friend wants to say hello.”  
   
“I know, I heard him.” Chris keeps on smiling, and shakes his head. “Love you, I’ll call you later.”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
Sebastian hands the phone over, and Anthony’s loud voice fills Chris’s ear. “Evans!”  
   
“Hey, Mack. Happy holidays.”  
   
“Watchin’ the game later?”  
   
“The game will likely be on in the background while a bunch of screaming children occupy most of my attention, but yes. Are you gonna subject Seb and Hayley to it?”  
   
“Of course,” Anthony laughs. “It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without football and a couple of immigrants complaining about America.”  
   
“You’re outnumbered. I should be there backing you up, at least then the playing field would be even.”  
   
“Nah, it’s good you’re in Boston. Bet your Mom’s happy to have her boy home.”  
   
“She is.”  
   
From far away, Hayley’s voice yells Anthony’s name, and he makes a hasty exit from the conversation. After he hangs up and sets his phone down on the arm of the couch, Chris looks toward the open door across the room.  
   
“You can come in, now, Scott,” he says, a little louder than he’d been speaking on the phone. He’d heard Scott’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and can now hear him breathing in the hallway.  
   
Scott’s face is guilty when he steps into the room. “I wasn’t spying. I came down for a drink, and then heard your voice. Figured I shouldn’t interrupt.”  
   
“That’s uncharacteristically considerate of you,” Chris tells him with a grin, and Scott tells him to shut up.  
   
He gets beers from the fridge in the corner of the room, and hands one to Chris as he flops down on the couch next to him.  
   
“Talking to your friends?”  
   
Chris nods. “You should meet them, next time you come to see me. Sebastian’s best friend, you’d love her. She’s British, looks like a movie star from the 40s, wicked smart.”  
   
“She sounds fabulous.” Scott elbows Chris lightly in the side. “Got any more kissy pics to show off?”  
   
“So you can tell the whole neighbourhood about it?”  
   
“I just told Carly and Shanna! And okay, fine, maybe two of the girls at work. But that’s it.”  
   
“Oh, is that it?” Even as he complains about it, Chris takes his phone and finds the picture he’d taken just last night, of them in bed together, Sebastian’s head pillowed on Chris’s chest and his eyes closed. He hadn’t been sleeping, just floating with Chris in warm, pleasant afterglows. Chris’s cheeks are pink and his hair is messy, and he looks relaxed and contented.  
   
“Nothing like the mellow after a good fuck,” Scott jokes when Chris shows him, but he isn’t wrong.  
   
“Yep,” Chris agrees, without a trace of embarrassment, and Scott bumps into him with his shoulder.  
   
“Happy for you.”  
   
“Me too.”  
   
Chris lies on the couch on the main floor for a long time after dinner, with his niece asleep on his chest and Dodger asleep on his legs. He doesn’t entirely drift off himself, but he’s full and warm and he just relaxes, partly listening to the conversation Scott and Lisa are having in the background, partly listening to Budweiser commercials on the television, and partly just existing in the tranquillity of the moment. The small body shifts against him, and he rubs her back until she stills. Carly walks past him, and gently ruffles Chris’s hair as she goes. He smiles without opening his eyes.  
   
Much later, he retreats to his bedroom, well after everyone else is settled and he’d finished drying a heap of dishes in the sink. He changes out of his jeans and sweater, catching a glimpse at himself in the mirror and realizing he still has dirt on his cheek from the garage earlier. He rolls his eyes at the fact that it’s been there all day and no one bothered to tell him. He taps on Sebastian’s number again, as he tugs the blankets back on his bed and lies down, with the overhead light off and the lamp next to his bed bathing the room in low, orange light.  
   
“Hi,” Sebastian answers on the first ring, as if he’d been staring at his phone and waiting for Chris to call.  
   
“Back home?” Chris asks.  
   
“Yep.”   
   
“Did you have a nice day?”  
   
“Yeah, it was great. How about you?”  
   
“Really great,” Chris repeats. “Happy to be here, missed you. Same as before.”  
   
“I’ll be there next weekend,” Sebastian reminds him.  
   
“You still sure about that? I don’t wanna pressure you, if you’re not ready.”  
   
“I want to meet them,” Sebastian says simply.  
   
Chris nods. “Okay. Great. They’re gonna love you, I can’t wait.”  
   
“Are you in bed?”  
   
“Yes.” Chris smiles up at the ceiling. “Same bed I slept in as a kid. Batman sheets and everything.”  
   
“Such a dork,” Sebastian laughs, sounding fond. “What would those walls say, if they could talk?”  
   
“You know, I’ve never actually had sex with anyone here. Other than myself. So they’d probably say stop tugging yourself off and get a girlfriend.”  
   
Sebastian laughs again.  
   
“Or, get a boyfriend who wants to have phone sex with you,” Chris amends. “That is what you were suggesting earlier, right?”  
   
“Yes. Unless you don’t want to.”  
   
“I’ve never actually done that either.”  
   
His door opens before Sebastian can answer, and Lisa comes into the room.  
   
“Mom, I’m on the phone,” Chris complains, sitting up. “Do you just not knock at all anymore?”  
   
“You’re not indecent,” Lisa points out, gesturing towards Chris’s sweatpants. Her eyes twinkle as she adds, “yet. Is that him?”  
   
“Would you believe me if I said no?”  
   
“Of course not.” She holds her hand out. “Let me talk to him.”  
   
Chris can hear Sebastian laughing softly over the phone. “No, we’re … in the middle of something. You can talk to him tomorrow.”  
   
“I know what you’re in the middle of, and it can wait five minutes.” She moves her hand, reiterating her demand for him to give her his cellphone. “You’re not a teenager, I know you have more stamina than that. Let me talk to my future son-in-law.”  
   
“Oh my God,” Chris groans, as Sebastian makes a funny, squeaky noise on the other end of the line. Chris doesn’t know whether he’s reacting to her knowing they were about to jerk off together, or calling him Chris’s future husband, but it’s all a mess either way. He knows his mother, and she isn’t going to leave until she gets her way, so he apologizes to Sebastian and holds the phone out for her to take.  
   
“Sebastian! Hello, I’m Lisa.”  
   
Chris rolls his eyes and tips backwards, landing back against the pillows.  
   
“We can’t wait to meet you!” she’s telling him excitedly. Chris can’t hear both ends of the conversation, and imagines this is not how Sebastian would have wanted to speak to her for the first time. “That’s so sweet of you. Yes, of course. Any meal requests? You’re not a vegetarian or anything? … Absolutely! That’s perfect.”  
   
Chris tunes out the rest of the conversation, until she’s saying goodbye to him and handing the phone back.  
   
“Was that so horrible?” she asks. She brushes Chris’s hair back, and leans over to kiss his forehead. “Goodnight, angel. I love you.”  
   
“Love you, too. Night, Mom.”  
   
“Have fun,” she adds with a wink, as she leaves and shuts the door behind her.  
   
“Is she gone?” Sebastian asks.  
   
“Yes. Sorry. She’s a lot.”  
   
“At least she didn’t walk in once we’d actually started,” Sebastian says. “And she seems nice.”  
   
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Chris grumbles. “Like I said, she doesn’t knock.”  
   
“That’s embarrassing.”  
   
“Yeah. She’ll probably ask you about our sex life, when you visit. Just so you’re prepared for that. My parents take sex positivity to an entirely inappropriate level.”  
   
“What do you want me to tell her?” Sebastian asks, sounding uncomfortable about it already.  
   
“God. I don’t know. Tell her we haven’t, tell her we’re saving it for marriage.”  
   
“Would she believe that?”  
   
“No.”  
   
Sebastian chuckles. “I guess I’ll think of something.”  
   
“What food did you request?”  
   
“Meatloaf. Because I’ve never had it. Figured you guys are pretty All-American, so she’d know how to make it.”  
   
“She does, and it’s amazing. Prepare to be fed until you beg for mercy.”  
   
“My Mom does that, too, when company comes over.”  
   
“Did she completely kill the mood?” Chris asks. He rests his free hand over his forehead.  
   
“I guess it’s a bit awkward knowing she knows what we’re gonna do now,” Sebastian answers, with another laugh, and shuffling in the background like he’s shifting his position. “I already had a hand on my dick, by the way, which I had to remove to talk to your mother.”  
   
Chris laughs loudly, and then rolls onto his side and grins like an idiot. “God. I’m so sorry.”  
   
“Eh, it’s alright. I’ll work it out in therapy.”  
   
Still laughing, but also picturing Sebastian reclined on his couch in front of the fire with his hand down the front of his pants, Chris asks, “so you started without me, did you?”  
   
Sebastian hums. “You were taking too long to call. Got impatient.”  
   
“Where are you?”   
   
“Living room.”  
   
“Got a fire going?” Chris asks, happy when Sebastian confirms it so he can fully conjure the image in his mind.  
   
“It’s nice and warm.” Sebastian exhales slowly. “Would be warmer if you were here with me.”  
   
“I like being there with you. The flames crackling, and your cat on the back of the couch, and you in my arms.” Chris licks his lips, and it feels strangely intimate to admit, “I really, really like it when you’re in my arms.”  
   
“So do I. It’s the safest place in the whole world.”  
   
The thought makes Chris’s heart flutter. “Yeah?”  
   
“Definitely.”  
   
“That’s, good, I … I want that. Want you to feel safe when you’re with me. That’s important.”  
   
“I do,” Sebastian promises him. “And loved.”  
   
“You are, so much.” The words tumble out of Chris’s mouth, suddenly desperate to be sure Sebastian believes them. “I love you so much.”  
   
“I know you do, sweetheart,” Sebastian soothes him with gentle tones. “Do you … want just this, instead? Wanna just talk? You sound – overwhelmed.”  
   
“Just … my family. I had a good conversation with my Dad, this afternoon. Said some things to me I think I really needed to hear from him. And my sisters came in and wanted to see pictures of you and said they were excited to meet you, and Scott kept saying he’s happy for me, and. I don’t know. It was all a lot to take in, but it’s good. I’m happy.”  
   
“You sure?”  
   
“I’m sure. What, uh. I don’t really know how to do this. What are you wearing?”  
   
“Nothing,” Sebastian answers in a smirky voice.  
   
“So you’re just sitting ass-naked on your couch in front of the fire, playing with your dick and waiting for me to call you?”  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“That’s an image.” Part of Chris wants to laugh. A more significant part warms inside as he pictures it behind his eyelids; Sebastian’s skin glinting in the firelight, elegant fingers dragging slowly up and down the shaft of his cock.  
   
“You touchin’ yourself yet?”  
   
Chris shakes his head, and then verbalizes it when he remembers Sebastian can’t see him.  
   
“Move your hand down your chest really slowly, like I would if I was there,” Sebastian instructs him, and Chris follows the direction. “Touching all those ticklish spots on your sides. Rub yourself through your pants for a while, if you’re wearing any. Tease it first.”  
   
“Fuck,” Chris breathes, suddenly so turned on his vision goes blurry around the edges. He does what Sebastian asked, pressing against his quickly filling erection through the soft fabric of his sweats, and then slipping his hand inside to curl his fingers around it.  
   
“I love your hands,” Sebastian says, quiet and a little shaky.  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“They feel so good on me. In me.”  
   
“Sebastian.”  
   
“When I fucked you last week? Chris you were so beautiful …” Sebastian sighs happily. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. You all flushed, muscles moving with me, making these gorgeous little sounds … you have this, I don’t know, this little needy noise you make, like a moan but it’s smaller, like you can’t control it, I love it so much.”  
   
“Can’t control it, when I’m with you.” Chris confirms. He squeezes his fist around the head of his cock, thumb wiping at the slit where it’s already messy.  
   
“What would you do to me, if you were here?”  
   
“Everything.” Chris smiles and his eyes close, focusing on the feeling of his hand, and imagining. “Kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. Get on my knees on the carpet in front of you, where you’re sitting right now, suck you until you’re begging.”  
   
“I could pull your hair a little, I know you like that.”  
   
“Yeah, fuck, I do.”  
   
“Keep talking to me, okay? Don’t …” Sebastian groans a little. “Just keep talking.”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris twists his wrist, and the muscles in his stomach clench as he breathes. “I will.”  
   
*           *           *


	18. Chapter 18

Sebastian is nearly asleep on his couch when his phone buzzes, sounding out the ringtone he has set for when someone is at the front door, downstairs, asking to be let into the building. He isn’t expecting anyone. He reaches toward the coffee table, feeling around for his phone and annoying Riot, who’d been curled up on his hip. The cat makes a disgruntled noise and jumps down to the floor. Sebastian answers the phone, and his voice is scratchy.  
   
“Fuck, sorry, were you asleep?” Chris’s voice asks.  
   
Sebastian’s pulse jumps. He’d expected Chris to arrive back late tonight and head straight to his own home; Sebastian didn’t think they’d see each other until tomorrow at the university. “Not quite. Dozing on the couch.”  
   
“Can I come up?”  
   
“Oh, right.” Just for a moment, Sebastian had forgotten this isn’t a regular phone call. “Yeah, of course.”  
   
He presses 9 on the keypad screen, hearing the vibrating sound on the other end of the line that indicates the automatic door has been unlocked. He hangs up the phone, and sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. He’s still drowsy and trying to tug himself out of it when there’s a knock at the door. He goes to it, and Chris bursts in and descends on him before the door is even closed. His hands roughly grab at Sebastian’s shirt, yanking him close and kissing him breathless. It feels different than Sebastian is used to, and he reaches up to cup Chris’s cheek, finding smooth skin.  
   
“Hi,” Chris says, when he lets his lips fall away but doesn’t release his grip on Sebastian and keeps him close. “God, I missed you.”  
   
Sebastian is still groggy. He leans back so he can look, finding Chris clean-shaven. His fingers explore, and he blinks in slow confusion as his mind takes in the change.  
   
“There was an incident this afternoon,” Chris laughs, with a shrug, “with my nephew and some bubble-gum.”  
   
“Oh no.” Sebastian laughs too. He leans in and rubs his nose over the soft skin on Chris’s cheek.  
   
“Do you hate it?”  
   
“What? No, of course not. Maybe I’ll stop shaving, we can switch for a while.”  
   
“Mm. Can’t say I’d hate that.” Chris’s hand cups his jaw, thumb moving over Sebastian’s chin. “Bet you look sexy with a little scruff.”  
   
Sebastian kisses Chris’s cheek with his eyes closed. He’s still half-asleep, and he wants to rub himself on Chris like a cat and doze off curled up in his arms.  
   
“You gonna tell me you missed me, too?” Chris jokes. He jostles Sebastian, moving his hips with his hands and then wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s waist.  
   
“I did.” Hooking his arms over Chris’s shoulders, Sebastian slides his mouth back over Chris’s, tasting his lips. “Didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.”  
   
“I know it’s late, I’m sorry. I got home, and … I don’t know, didn’t wanna spend another night without you. My house felt empty.”  
   
“You’re always welcome here,” Sebastian tells him, not voicing how happy it makes him that Chris was missing them as much as he was. Sebastian felt silly about it. They were only apart for a few days, and they’ve only been dating a few months. He worried he shouldn’t be as attached as he is. He worried he’s overestimating everything; that this being his first serious relationship in so long is making him put more weight in things that maybe aren’t as big a deal as he’s making them. But Chris seems right on the same level. If Sebastian is falling too fast, so is Chris, and that makes it okay.  
   
Chris smiles against his lips, and his voice drops an octave as he says, “my heart missed you. But other parts of me missed you, too.”  
   
The thought makes Sebastian feel warm on the inside. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling, to him, to have somebody want him the way Chris does, in a way that goes so much further and deeper than temporary pleasure. Chris flips their position so he can push Sebastian up against the door. The third kiss is rough again, like the first one, Chris ramping up the volume and pressing the line of his body into Sebastian’s. Sebastian’s hands grip Chris’s hair, staying tangled in the soft brown strands as Chris kisses his neck.  
   
“Sorry,” Chris mutters, not really sounding sorry at all. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, and you make me crazy, and – d’you want …?”  
   
“I want,” Sebastian confirms, and Chris drops down to his knees, fingers fumbling over the drawstring on Sebastian’s sweatpants and nuzzling into him. Sebastian exhales, heat pooling in his gut and blood rushing between his legs. He’s very, very awake now, and he wants to push Chris backwards and take him right there on the floor in his front hall.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“Tell me the truth, are you nervous?” Chris looks over at Sebastian next to him in the passenger’s seat.  
   
Sebastian’s throat moves as he swallows. “A little.”  
   
“They’re gonna love you, Seb.” Chris reaches his hand out, and Sebastian takes it, holds it in between his own and rests them in his lap. It’s early on Saturday morning, and they’re on the interstate heading to Boston.  
   
“I’m not worried they’re going to hate me. I’m just … they’re so important to you. I just want them to think I’m good enough for you.” He looks out the window, and squeezes back when Chris’s fingers tighten in his hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone’s parents. I might be rusty.”  
   
“I’ve seen you schmoozing with donors and working the crowd at your public lectures,” Chris reminds him. “You could charm the pants off anyone you wanted. Turn some of that charisma on my parents and they’ll be eating from the palm of your hand.”  
   
Sebastian grins, but then it slips off his face just as quickly as it came. “I don’t want to schmooze them, though. I want them to actually like me. The real me.”  
   
“They will,” Chris promises, with another squeeze of his hand.  
   
“Okay.”  
   
From the backseat, Dodger barks at a couple of deer in the distance, wandering through the brush. For a while, they don’t speak, but it’s comfortable. Chris leaves his hand in Sebastian’s lap, not needing both to steer along this straight section of the highway. Sebastian has never been to Boston. He’s been to Harvard several times, for conferences, but never crossed the river from Cambridge to Chris’s hometown. Chris talks about it like it means a lot to him – but, then, Chris talks about most things like they mean a lot to him. Loving everything is part of his personality. Sebastian sneaks a sideways glance at him, just to look for the thousandth time at his nose and his long eyelashes and the soft pink of his cheeks and the kindness in his blue eyes. The immensity of how in love he is hits him sometimes when he isn’t expecting it. A crushing feeling sometimes follows immediately after, when Sebastian remembers how long he’d believed he’d never have something like this. He’s protective of it, to probably an irrational degree, but it feels both precious and precarious. He knows how easily it could be taken away, and it took him a decade to recover from the last time he lost something this important. Those wounds still aren’t entirely healed over.  
   
As if he can sense the shift in the mood, Chris softly says, “I know there’s things you don’t say, sometimes. When you talk about not having met anyone’s parents in a while … I know there’s more to that story than you’re telling.”  
   
Sebastian sighs, and looks away.  
   
“And I’m not asking you to say those things,” Chris continues. “I’m really not. I just hope you know you can, if you ever wanted to.”  
   
“I always run away from things,” Sebastian admits. “I always have. I never wanted to go back to Romania after we left. I cut ties with everyone I went to school with the second I graduated. And I liked one-night stands because they were easy. You just spend an evening with a stranger making each other feel good and then you cut and run, and negate the possibility of getting attached, or … getting hurt.”  
   
Chris nods, and his thumb rubs over the back of Sebastian’s hand. “Go easy on yourself, okay? When bad things happen … sometimes it’s okay to be changed by them.”  
   
“But you also negate the possibility of being loved,” Sebastian continues, sighing again but forcing himself to be brave enough to speak the words out loud. “I always told myself I didn’t care, I didn’t want that, but.”  
   
“I did that, too. Hurts less than wondering if you just aren’t good enough.”  
   
“Puts you in control of it, you know?”  
   
“So, what was different about me?”  
   
Sebastian thinks about it for a moment, because he’s never really asked himself that question. He jumped in head-first with Chris and it felt so easy right from the start, so he’s never spent much time wondering why. Eventually, he says, “you read my book.”  
   
“I can’t be the only person you’ve met who’s read it.”  
   
“No. But you … I wasn’t going to start anything with you, before I knew you’d read it. I was attracted to you, but, casual sex with a colleague is never a good idea. I wouldn’t have slept with you, as much as I wanted to. But then you’d read my book, and you actually cared about my research and my interests, and … I don’t know. You smiled at me like you weren’t just imagining what you’d do to me once we were alone.”  
   
“I would’ve been your friend, even if nothing else ever happened between us.”  
   
“I know.” Sebastian smiles down at their hands. That’s the crux of it. Chris hit the nail on the head, after all of Sebastian’s unorganized babbling. He knows Chris would still have talked to him and spent time with him and cared about him, if Sebastian had been straight or uninterested in romance. “I believe you, and that’s what was different. You didn’t want anything from me.”  
   
“I’m so happy you took a chance on me, on us.”  
   
“I am too.” Sebastian turns his smile to Chris, and brings Chris’s hand up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles.  
   
Chris spends the half hour they have left of the drive telling Sebastian about his idea for a new research project examining the accuracies of the Assassin’s Creed video game series, and starting the arduous process of securing funding for it. Sebastian is so impressed with the idea, with its creativity and present-day implications, and he tells Chris that insistently and leaves him blushing and smiling softly. They don’t talk as much once they reach the city, because Sebastian is preoccupied with staring out the window. There is a light dusting of snow over everything, coating the trees in what looks like frosted sugar. Boston is similar in appearance to New Haven, only much bigger, with a towering cluster of skyscrapers in the distance, shining in the blue reflection of the ocean next to them. Sebastian has always liked the look of snowy days, as long as he’s indoors where he doesn’t have to experience the cold that comes with them, and the city is beautiful bathed in white.  
   
Chris’s parents house is a blue two-storey in a working class neighbourhood, and looks more or less like what Sebastian has been picturing every time Chris has talked about it. A Christmas wreath on the red front door. An attached garage with a basketball hoop nailed up over the door. An older sedan parked in the driveway, that Chris pulls his truck in behind. The door opens before they’re even out of the vehicle, and a woman with blond hair and round cheeks is waving at them from the front porch. Her appearance wasn’t much of a surprise either, when Sebastian had seen pictures of her weeks ago. She looks like a Mom; like she gives good hugs and bakes cookies and kindly drops hard truths and soothes heartbreaks.  
   
Sebastian had intentionally dressed down, not wanting to show up at a house full of people like Chris in a suit that might suggest he thinks he’s better than them. He and Chris have never discussed money before. He has a general idea of what Chris’s salary likely is, because they have the same job, but Sebastian has family money he doesn’t like to talk about and Chris definitely doesn’t. Looking at his mother in a casual sweater, Sebastian made the right choice to dress in jeans and one of Chris’s favorite sweaters. He hadn’t asked, this morning, before he borrowed it. He just put it on, and definitely saw Chris grinning about it out of the corner of his eye.  
   
Lisa’s smile spreads nearly from ear to ear and she exclaims excitedly as they approach with Dodger at their heels. She pulls Sebastian into a hug first, squeezing him tight. “It’s so nice to meet you!”  
   
“You too.” Sebastian hugs back. “Chris never stops saying good things.”  
   
“That’s nice to hear.” She holds his face in her hands and pats his cheek. “Look how handsome you are, Christopher never had a hope, did he?”  
   
“I definitely didn’t,” Chris confirms, wrapping his arms around his Mom when she turns to him.  
   
“You’re spoiling us with so many visits, I’m going to be devastated in January when you go back to staying away for weeks on end.”  
   
“Come visit us, then.”  
   
“I will, and you’ll regret offering.” Her eyes twinkle, and she leads them into the house.  
   
Well-used furniture, talk radio on in the other room, and the smell of something baking greets Sebastian’s senses as he walks into Chris’s childhood home. It’s clean but there’s random clutter strew about; an umbrella leaned up against the closet door, a pack of playing cards on the coffee table, a pile of folded bath towels on the stairs, waiting to be carried up to the second floor. It looks like a warm, joyful place to grow up. The kind of home where a kid could draw in crayon on the walls and only get in a small amount of trouble. Sebastian loves his parents, but he’d hated the Upper West Side. He’d hated private school uniforms and expensive marble floors and fresh flowers on every available surface and private limousines. Nothing about his adolescence in New York had ever felt real or authentic to him, it has always seemed manufactured and put-on; everyone he knew approaching life with some sort of ulterior motive, crafting their personalities to fit their desired image. He’d been painfully shy because of his accent and initial struggle to grasp the English language, and even near the end of his schooling when he’d managed to make a few friends, he still barely felt like he knew them. He’s jealous, of Chris growing up in this house, surrounded by siblings and noise and good food and love. Jealous, but also cautiously optimistic, because maybe now he can have a little of this life as well. Maybe, if he doesn’t mess everything up at some point and he secures some kind of forever with Chris, one day they could have a house like this.  
   
“Bob is at the office, emergency root canal,” Lisa says, as she takes Sebastian’s coat and hangs it in the closet. “He’ll be back soon, I thought we could go for a late lunch. Get to know each other a little.”  
   
She takes Sebastian’s arm before he can answer, hooking her elbow around his, and leading him into the kitchen and away from Chris. She tells him again that he’s handsome, and she’s happy he’s here, and he believes every word she says. She has the same warmth and sincerity that radiates off Chris – Sebastian can see, now, where he gets it.  
   
Chris’s brother joins them for lunch. Sebastian has nervous energy buzzing underneath his skin all morning, especially after Scott arrives, because Sebastian knows how much he means to Chris. But it gets easier by the minute, as Chris’s Dad and brother hug him just as warmly as Lisa had, and if anybody minds that Sebastian isn’t a woman who could give them grandchildren to carry on the family name, they certainly don’t voice it out loud. Chris’s family is exactly like him. They’re loud, and emphatic, and they laugh a lot, and speak their minds, but they’re also kind, and welcoming, and give Sebastian their full attention every time he speaks as if they’re truly interested in whatever he has to say. Chris spends most of the day with a big, dopey grin on his face. He keeps looking back and forth between Sebastian and members of his family like he wants to pull them all into a giant group hug and hold them there for an hour.  
   
There’s hockey on the television in the afternoon, and laughter, and questions about Sebastian’s life and faces turned to him that listen intently to his answers, and Chris’s arm around him on the couch while Lisa watches them with a fond expression on her face. Sebastian recognizes it, because it matches the way Chris looks sometimes, when he’s especially happy. By the afternoon, Sebastian isn’t nervous anymore. He settles into their rhythm, laughing at Scott’s dramatically told stories, explaining his field of research to Bob who seems particularly interested in it, letting Lisa dote on him. He leans into Chris without embarrassment when Chris wraps him up and snuggles him in front of three people Sebastian’s only known for a few hours.  
   
In the early evening, Chris’s sisters and their husbands and kids show up, along with two more dogs. It’s on the tip of Sebastian’s tongue to introduce himself to the kids as Uncle Chris’s friend, but Chris beats him to it, explaining he’s together with Sebastian the same way their Mom and Dad are together, and the boys shrug that off like it’s normal and boring and run off to play in the backyard in their snow boots and puffy jackets. The youngest, Chris’s niece Stella, tugs at Sebastian’s sleeve and lifts her arms, asking to be picked up.  
   
“She’s whatever the entire opposite of shy is,” Carly tells him. “One of these days she’s just going to wander off with a complete stranger and join their family.”  
   
Sebastian smiles at her, and lifts her small body up, sitting her on his hip. She touches his hair with tiny hands.  
   
“Your name sounds like mine,” she says, with a small smile.  
   
“You’re right! Both start with S.”  
   
She nods, and the smile widens.  
   
“How about you and me go see if your brothers need any help building a snowman?” Sebastian asks, and she nods again, excitement dancing in her eyes. He catches the look on Chris’s face as he walks away with Stella still on his hip, and Chris looks like he’s about to burst into flames.  
   
It’s nearly midnight before Sebastian even realizes it. As uncertain as he was when they left Chris’s house early this morning, the day flew by, and Chris finally announces they’re going to bed when Sebastian yawns so widely his jaw hurts and he turns his face into Chris’s chest to hide it. Everyone who doesn’t live here had gone home hours ago, and Bob is asleep in his chair, so Sebastian doesn’t feel like he’s the one ending the party early. Chris takes Sebastian upstairs, with Dodger following them, and when they’re finally alone in Chris’s room, Sebastian blows out a heavy breath and runs his hands over his hair. He turns back, looking at Chris, feeling overwhelmed.  
   
Chris winces. “Yeah. I know, they’re a lot. Do you wanna find a hotel, instead of staying here?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. Chris misunderstood completely. “No. Oh my God, no, that’s not it at all. Chris, they’re … I love them.”  
   
“Really?” Chris’s face breaks into a grin.  
   
“I mean, yes, they’re loud. But I … I don’t really have a family like this, you know? I have a Mom and a Step-Dad but I don’t have siblings and Aunts and Uncles and cousins, at least not here. I never had a big, happy, loud family. Yours is amazing. They’re all amazing. They’re so nice and they all just welcomed me in like I wasn’t a stranger, and the kids are so cute, and … God, do they ever love you. Every one of them.”  
   
Chris practically jogs the four or five steps to close the distance between them and pulls Sebastian into a bruising kiss. Sebastian sighs into it, holding onto Chris like he never wants to let go. It feels like Chris pours everything into it that he doesn’t know if he could say out loud. Sebastian’s mouth hangs open for a moment when they break apart and then he smiles, breathless.  
   
“What was that for?”  
   
“I love them so much and I wanted them to love you, and I knew they would, and …” Chris’s fingers grip the back of Sebastian’s neck. “Thank you for coming here with me.”  
   
With another shake of his head, Sebastian tilts himself forward, tips his whole body into Chris’s arms, letting Chris’s strong form take his weight. “Thank you for wanting to share your family.”  
   
“I’m crazy about you,” Chris whispers to him. His voice wavers, emotional, and Sebastian loves him more every second.  
   
“Me too.” For another few minutes, they stay right where they are, absorbing each other. Then Chris moves, seeming reluctant about it, but communicating without words that they should continue the embrace once they get themselves horizontal.   
   
Sebastian locates his bag on a desk in the corner of the room, so he can change into the sweats and t-shirt he’d packed as sleep attire. Chris had brought their things up here earlier; this is the first look Sebastian has gotten of the bedroom that has belonged to Chris since he was born. It looks frozen in time. Like Chris at 13 years old had left his mark on it, and then fast forwarded over 20 years into the future but left the room unchanged. The bedspread is blue and spotted with the logo of Chris’s favorite football team. Sebastian had tried, and failed, to get into the sport. He still thinks it’s unnecessarily complicated and violent and incredibly slow; they break between plays for full minutes, only to reward the audience with 18 seconds of action before another break. But Chris loves it, so Sebastian keeps his mouth shut about it and leaves his boyfriend to enjoy it with Anthony. There are posters on the walls, of things Sebastian assumes normal American kids enjoyed in the 90s. He’s heard of Blink-182. He doesn’t know what  _Ren and Stimpy_  is, but guesses it’s a crudely animated TV show. There are teen-geared novels and comics on a bookshelf, and a plastic container with  _baseball cards_ written in Sharpie on a masking tape label. A wire CD tower next to the desk contains a vast, disorganized collection, full of bands Sebastian knows and bands he doesn’t, and the soundtracks to musicals like  _West Side Story_ and  _The Lion King_.  
   
Chris grins sheepishly when he notices Sebastian looking at them. “I was in a theater group, remember? With Scott. It was fun.”  
   
“You’re adorable,” Sebastian tells him, and he means it as the highest order of compliment.  
   
Chris’s bed is a double, so they fit in it together, but it’s still small compared to their larger beds at home. Sebastian doesn’t mind at all. After the day they’ve had, he’s more than happy to snuggle up to Chris and stay like that until morning. Chris lies on Sebastian’s chest, instead, and Sebastian likes that just as much. He hugs his arms around Chris’s broad shoulders, and kisses the top of his head. Dodger jumps up, and curls up at their feet. Sebastian is about to float the idea he’s been mulling over for the last few days, when there’s a soft knock at the door just before it opens a crack and Lisa’s voice asks if they’re asleep.  
   
“Not yet,” Chris answers. He doesn’t move away from Sebastian; says the words into his neck.  
   
She comes into the room. Sebastian remembers the last weekend, when she’d barged in while they were on the phone. He’s embarrassed, although only slightly. They’re fully clothed, and they weren’t about to do anything that she shouldn’t be walking in on. It’s still a bit too familiar for his comfort level, to have a person he’s just met in the room while he’s in bed with Chris, even if they’re only lying there together.  
   
“She has to say goodnight,” Chris says, to Sebastian, as an explanation. “Every night, since before I can remember. Can’t help herself.”  
   
“Hey.” Lisa gets close enough to poke Chris on the shoulder. “Don’t say that like it’s a nuisance, when I distinctly remember you fretting when you went off to university that I wouldn’t be there to tuck you in anymore.”  
   
“Thanks, Mom, that’s definitely something Seb needed to know,” Chris groans, burying himself further into Sebastian’s arms.  
   
Sebastian smiles. “That’s really sweet.”  
   
“Not helpful,” Chris grumbles.  
   
Lisa sits on the edge of the bed, behind Chris’s back. She reaches out and smooths her hand over his hair. She looks at Sebastian while she explains. “Families aren’t always perfect. Sometimes we fight, sometimes we get mad and say things we regret, sometimes we make mistakes and we hurt each other. But every one of my cubs, every night they spend under this roof, is not allowed to go to sleep without knowing I love them. No matter what else is happening, that’s the most important thing.”  
   
Chris rolls over onto his back, so he can see her. All the annoyance and sarcasm is gone from his voice as he says, “Love you, Mom.”  
   
“I know, angel. I love you, too.” She leans forward and kisses his forehead, and Sebastian is close enough to notice the way Chris’s expression melts into a small smile. It’s gentle and endearing and Sebastian drowns in a fresh wave of affection for the man next to him. Lisa stands, and braces her hand on Chris’s arm so she can lean further over and place a kiss on Sebastian’s forehead as well. “Goodnight, boys. Sleep well.”  
   
Chris settles back in Sebastian’s arms.  
   
Just before she leaves, Lisa adds, “I would tell you to behave in here, but you’re grown men so I won’t. But at least keep it down.”  
   
“Mom,” Chris complains, while Sebastian tries desperately to hold back laughter. “We’re not gonna have sex in this house, for fuck’s sake.”  
   
“Why not?” she asks lightly. “I do. Sleep tight.”  
   
She’s gone in the next second, and Sebastian shakes as he laughs and Chris grumbles against him something about a lack of boundaries and wanting to bleach his brain.  
   
“She’s awesome,” Sebastian says, between giggles, and Chris relents and laughs too.  
   
“I guess.”  
   
“You’re just like her.”  
   
“Please tell me I’m not that inappropriate.”  
   
“No.” Sebastian nudges Chris’s face up so he can kiss him. “Not that. But she’s warm, and loving, and honest, and she takes in strays and makes them her family. You do all that.”  
   
“I was the stray,” Chris reminds him, with fingertips brushing Sebastian’s cheek. “You’re the one who took me in.”  
   
Picking up where he’d left off in his mind just before they were interrupted, Sebastian trails his fingers up and down Chris’s spine and says, “I have an idea.”  
   
“Tell me.”  
   
“Why don’t you come visit me in New York, after Christmas? For New Year’s Eve?”  
   
“Really? I’ve never been.”  
   
“Perfect, we’ll do all the cheesy stuff. The Statue of Liberty, Central Park. I’ll kiss you at the top of the Empire State Building.”  
   
Chris sighs happily. “That sounds perfect.”  
   
“Good.” Sebastian bites for a moment at his lower lip, and realizes he needs to warn Chris of something before any of that takes place. “My, um. My Step-Dad has Alzheimer’s. Just … so you know.”  
   
Chris frowns up at him. “I’m so sorry.”  
   
“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you until now. I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you,” Sebastian says truthfully. “I just don’t like to think about it, and it never really came up.”  
   
“That’s okay.” Chris kisses him, soft and sweet.  
   
“It’s not that advanced. Most of the time he’s just a little forgetful. Every now and then he has bad days, and he forgets my name, or other big things. But that’s rare. At this point, anyway.” Sebastian blurts it all out, and Chris shushes him gently with another kiss.  
   
“Do you want to talk about it later? When we’re back home?”  
   
He isn’t telling Sebastian not to talk about it now, but giving Sebastian permission to press pause on the conversation until they’re in a space where he’s more comfortable. Sebastian loves him for it. He doesn’t answer in words; instead he pulls Chris on top of him, lets himself be comforted by the weight and the familiar smell of his shampoo and the feeling of warm skin. He’s lulled to sleep by it, and has only pleasant dreams.  
   
*           *           *  
   
When he wakes, there is sun filtering in through the curtains. Sebastian stretches, languidly extending his muscles. Chris is still asleep next to him, on his side facing away from Sebastian. He moves in to kiss Chris’s hair, and Chris stirs but doesn’t wake up. Not wanting to disturb him, Sebastian quietly climbs out of the bed and takes his toiletry bag into the bathroom, to brush his teeth and wash his face and drag a wet comb through his sleep-messy hair. In the kitchen, he finds Lisa already awake and dressed, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in her hand and the newspaper spread out in front of her.  
   
She smiles kindly at him as he enters. “Good morning, honey. Sleep okay?”  
   
Sebastian nods. “Yeah. Great.”  
   
“There’s coffee in the pot, if you drink it,” she says, gesturing toward the counter behind her. “Or, I can make tea, or we have orange juice, and milk, and I think apple juice too, although Bob may have polished that off yesterday.”  
   
“Coffee’s great.”  
   
She stands, and shows him where the mugs are so he can help himself.  
   
He sits with her, once he’s poured himself a cup.  
   
“Chris says you were born in Romania?”  
   
“Yeah. Lived there until I was about nine. Then we lived in Austria for a while, before we came here.”  
   
“And you escaped from a war?” The look on her face is one of genuine concern, and Sebastian is humbled by it; moved by someone he barely knows caring for him as much as she seems to.  
   
“It’s called a revolution in the history books, but. Yeah. It was a war.”  
   
“You were so young.” She reaches over and takes his hand. “That must have been so frightening.”  
   
He changes the subject, not because he’s entirely opposed to discussing his past, but because there’s something he needs for her to hear, preferably while they’re alone. “I love your son. It’s important to me that you know that. I really love him. I’d … I’m going to take care of him. I wouldn’t ever hurt him on purpose.”  
   
“Oh, honey.” Her fingers squeeze around his, just the way Chris’s do when he’s holding Sebastian’s hand and wants to emphasize a point he’s making. “I do know that. I see the way you look at him. And I see the way he looks at you. He’s happier with you than he’s been in a very long time.”  
   
“That’s good, that’s … it’s all I want. To make him happy.”  
   
“You do, Sebastian. It’s coming off him in waves, it’s impossible to miss.”  
   
Sebastian tries not to let it show too obnoxiously, but the confirmation lights him up. By the time Chris comes downstairs, sleepy and dishevelled, Sebastian has been chatting with Lisa for nearly a half hour. They’ve both refilled their mugs, and are halfway through a second cup of coffee when Chris stumbles into the kitchen. He drapes himself over Sebastian from behind, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders and nuzzling into his neck, almost like he’s too drowsy to care that his mother is only a foot away from them. Or maybe he wouldn’t care even if he were fully awake. That thought lights Sebastian up as well.  
   
“Morning,” Sebastian says to him, laughing a little. He doesn’t miss the way Lisa smiles down at her coffee cup.  
   
*           *           *


	19. Chapter 19

It’s snowing lightly. Chris can see fat, fluffy snowflakes gently drifting down, through the windows at the other end of the classroom. Halfway into December, the city is covered in deep snow, that coats the trees and the street signs and sparkles like millions of diamonds in the low winter sunshine. Chris has always loved the snow. It makes unremarkable streets and buildings and open spaces look magical. He’s finishing up his final lecture of the term, and helping his students through a brief review before their exam next week. Reminding them to study, reminding them to email if they have questions, reassuring them that they know what they need to know and he’s sure they’ll all do well. He’s loved all his classes, but this one in particular has been a fantastic group of kids, and he’s going to miss them.  
   
After he dismisses them, Kayla stays behind for a few minutes, to wish him happy holidays, and let him know she’s been seeing a therapist. Chris tells her he’s proud of her, and she gives him a small hug before she leaves the room. Chris makes his way slowly back to his office across the quad, taking his time and enjoying the snow. His breath comes out in clouds in front of his face. The bare vines of ivy that crawl up the old brick buildings are heavily laden with snow, as are the evergreen trees along the path. With their boughs wilting under the weight, they look like Christmas trees. The lawn is littered with boot-prints, and students hustle past him wrapped up in coats and scarves and gloves. A boy reaches down to scoop up a handful of snow that he packs into a ball and hurls at his friend, nailing him in the back of the head. Chris tries not to laugh.  
   
He shakes the snowflakes out of his hair as he gets back to his office, and settles down at his desk. He’s been working on an article to submit to the American Historical Review, and he brings it up on his computer and rereads the few paragraph’s he’d written late last night. A soft knock on his door makes Chris look up, and Sebastian is smiling at him, elegant as always in fitted black pants and a finely knit turtleneck sweater the color of dark red wine. His hair is artfully tousled, and true to his word he hasn’t been shaving lately, and there is a short layer of dark brown around his mouth and over his square jawline. It looks just as gorgeous on him as Chris knew it would, and he’s a little bit fixated on it.  
   
Chris stands as Sebastian steps into the room, moving quickly into Chris’s space. “I only have a minute, on my way to my last class. Saw your door was open.”  
   
“I just finished mine.” Chris puts his hands on Sebastian’s hips, and Sebastian’s hands find the back of his neck and he tugs Chris in to kiss him.  
   
It’s full-bodied and sends sparks shooting down Chris’s spine, but it’s over as quickly as it started, and Sebastian is pecking him on the cheek and moving away again. “Gotta go, I’ll see you later, right?”  
   
“Of course.”  
   
Sebastian doesn’t follow through right away. He stays six inches away from Chris and looks at him. “You look especially nice today,” he says, with his hands on Chris’s face, one thumb nudging the arm of the black plastic reading glasses Chris is wearing. “I like you in glasses. Makes your eyes look like art in a picture frame.”  
   
“Jesus.” Chris laughs as his heart flutters and kisses him again. “You tryin’ to make me melt into a puddle on the floor?”  
   
“Yes.” Sebastian grins into the kiss. “But it’s also the truth. Okay, I really do have to go. Love you.”  
   
“Love you back,” Chris replies, and Sebastian turns back just for a second to wink at him before he’s gone.  
   
Chris presses his lips together, and does a little happy dance internally. It’s far more difficult, after, to concentrate on his work.  
   
*           *           *  
   
They’re halfway through the latest episode of a true crime documentary they’ve been watching, pressed close together on Chris’s couch. Chris has multi-colored Christmas lights strung up around the window, and they’re the only light in the room besides the blueish glow of the television. They twinkle in the background, and Chris is ridiculously happy in this moment, even as they watch a man accused of murdering his wife potentially facing life in prison. Sebastian moves suddenly, pulling himself out of Chris’s embrace so he can stand just briefly and then straddles Chris’s legs. He settles into Chris’s lap, with his knees pressed to either side of Chris’s hips, and leans in to kiss his neck. Chris is startled for just a moment at the quick change in position, but then he chuckles softly and his hands finds Sebastian’s hips. It’s a cold night, so he’s in plaid pyjama pants, and the flannel is soft under Chris’s fingers.  
   
“Can’t really see the TV anymore,” Chris comments casually.  
   
Sebastian doesn’t answer. He just keeps sucking at Chris’s neck, and then he starts moving; just slightly at first, small, barely perceptible rolls of his hips, but they get bigger as he drags his teeth over a tendon in Chris’s neck.  
   
Chris swears and closes his eyes, heat beginning to move slower through his veins. It filters out to his extremities, and down toward his stomach, and he tilts his head to the side to give Sebastian’s lips more room to work. They’re magic against his skin, lighting him up from the inside out. The lawyers on the television drone on in the background and Chris isn’t paying attention to them anymore; can’t focus on anything but the way Sebastian moves against him. Chris nudges his face up so their mouths can slide together in a kiss, slow and deep and consuming, as Sebastian grinds lazily against him, like they have all the time in the world and he intends to take it.  
   
“Should we take this upstairs?” Chris asks, hoping down to his toes the answer will be yes. Five minutes ago he hadn’t thought the night would end this way – Sebastian had a lot of meetings today and had said he was exhausted. Now he’s in Chris’s lap, quickly working Chris to hard in his jeans, and Chris wants to carry him up the stairs and forget about everything but their bodies together under the sheets.  
   
“Not yet,” Sebastian answers. He sucks gratuitously on Chris’s lower lip, and never stops moving in his lap. It’s maddening, somehow too slow and too fast all at once. Sebastian surrounds him, the feeling of him against Chris, the weight on his thighs, the firm cut of his hips in Chris’s hands underneath soft fabric. His familiar scent, when he dips back down to attach his lips to Chris’s neck again and his hair gets in Chris’s nose. Shampoo that smells like lavender and mint, and warm. It’s all so warm, burning, soothing but also fiery, and Chris is dizzy with it. It’s a slow boil, but Chris’s cock is straining against his jeans, aching to be touched more thoroughly than Sebastian’s torturous grind.  
   
His arm moves almost without permission from his brain, and Chris grabs Sebastian’s ass to shove him in tighter so he can push his hips up, urgently seeking friction. The even pattern of Sebastian’s breathing is disrupted just a bit, just a tiny hitch of breath the only indication he’s as affected by this endless teasing as Chris is. But then he pulls back, and the kiss he presses to Chris’s lips is soft and gentle and almost innocent, like he hasn’t just spent the last 20 minutes writhing in Chris’s lap with the express purpose of getting him hot and bothered just to deny him any release for it.  
   
“Patience, sweetheart,” he whispers, sliding the words against Chris’s lips, and Chris nearly growls in frustration.  
   
“You’re a god-damn menace,” he mutters. “Always edging me on and then pretending you don’t know what you’re doin’.”  
   
Sebastian’s talented mouth travels along Chris’s cheek, so he can darkly murmur into his ear, “you’re right. I know exactly what I’m doin’. Can’t help it. You’re so pretty when you’re all worked up.”  
   
A pitiful whimper escapes from Chris’s throat. Sebastian licks around the shell of his ear, and Chris’s dick throbs with his heartbeat and leaks against his underwear, and it’s messy and uncomfortable and he hates it and loves it all at once, wrapped up in a confusing, arousing tangle. Sebastian’s fingers are in his hair, massaging his scalp, and his hips rock down again, harder this time, pressing himself into Chris.  
   
“Fuck,” Chris rasps. His vision has gone blurry around the edges.  
   
“You could always fight back a little.” Sebastian’s mouth is wet and hot and it drags back along Chris’s cheek, takes Chris’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugs at it. His knees squeeze around Chris’s hips. His face, when Chris finally gets a look up at it, is caught between smug, and just as desperate as Chris is. Sebastian’s mouth is curved into a taunting smile, but his cheeks are pink and his eyes are shiny and heavy-lidded. “Tease me back, make me give in. If you think you can.”  
   
Chris’s brain is soaked in chemicals but it still takes the challenge, and he surges up to kiss Sebastian harder, just for a moment before he backs off. He moves his right hand, sliding it around to slip into the back of Sebastian’s flannel pants, fingers pushing into the warm crevice, the tip of his forefinger circling around the furl of muscle. He doesn’t push in – wouldn’t, without something to ease the slide – but he presses against it, watching Sebastian’s face as he does. Sebastian lets out a huff of breath and tips his forehead against Chris’s.  
   
He’s smiling as he says, “that’s playin’ dirty.”  
   
“You’re the one who didn’t set any rules,” Chris replies. He kisses the corner of Sebastian’s mouth and keeps on touching. He brings his other hand up to take a handful of Sebastian’s hair and tug gently, letting his voice drop low as he asks, “you want more, huh?”  
   
Sebastian doesn’t answer, and doesn’t need to; Chris feels the affirmative in the way he shivers.  
   
“Want me to push two fingers all the way in? Tease all those spots inside? You’re always so fucking hot inside, baby, and you always pull me in so nice. Get you all worked open with my fingers and my tongue, ‘till you’re all loose and ready for me. You want that?”  
   
Again, he gets no reply. He gets a kiss this time, though, rough and bruising.  
   
“Shh,” Chris murmurs to him, tilting his chin back so their lips fall apart, but their foreheads stay together. He’s just playing, now, enjoying the game Sebastian started, even though he’s still praying Sebastian will crack soon because Chris isn’t up for this much longer either. “Thought you wanted to take this slow?”  
   
“You’re enjoying this, now?” Sebastian asks finally, and his voice wavers.  
   
“Knew you were just as desperate for it as me.” Chris grins at him, and then copies Sebastian’s tactic from earlier and smears his lips over Sebastian’s cheek, through the rough stubble. “‘Cause I know you. Know how much you like bein’ filled up. You’d let me push a finger in right now, even though it’s dry, just to have something inside.”  
   
“Do it, then,” Sebastian challenges.  
   
Chris shakes his head, slipping back to serious just for a second. “A game’s not worth the risk it might hurt.”  
   
Sebastian exhales, and then he pushes at Chris’s shoulders, tipping them both so they land along the couch cushions, Chris on his back and Sebastian on top of him. Sebastian kisses him, with deep, slow passes of his tongue, and resumes the movement of his hips. Bodies flush together now, Sebastian’s thigh rubs between Chris’s legs, and he moans low in his throat, blissfully, finally getting what he’d wanted before, but now he’s too far gone for it.  
   
“Seb,” he breathes, grunting softly as Sebastian presses his leg down deliberately just to hear Chris moan again. “Fuck, okay, you gotta stop, for real, unless you want me coming in my fucking pants.”  
   
“Maybe that is what I want.” Sebastian noses under his jaw.  
   
“Counter offer.” Chris shudders underneath him, and somehow manages to force words out even though he can barely see straight. “I take you upstairs and bend you in half, fuck you ‘till you’re begging.”  
   
“Fuck.” Sebastian stops moving abruptly, and just for a second Chris thinks he went too far and Sebastian lost it in his own pants, but then Sebastian is climbing off him and grabbing Chris’s hand, hauling him up off the couch and pulling him up the stairs.  
   
*           *           *  
   
December 22nd is a particularly blustery Saturday, which Sebastian grumbles about, and Chris loves. The Christmas season is already magical enough on its own, and it’s given an extra dose of enchantment when the snow swirls around in the air, glittering on its way down to the ground, lining tree branches and rooftops and the top of Chris’s truck. He spends a lot of the morning hugging Sebastian from behind as he complains, kissing his cheeks and promising to keep him warm while Sebastian chops broccoli and cauliflower and tosses the florets in a cheese sauce for the casserole he’s preparing. They’d had to more-or-less bully Hayley into letting them bring some of the food for tonight. She seems to enjoy cooking for them but Chris always feels bad about letting her do all the work.  
   
Hours later, they arrive at Hayley and Anthony’s house, loaded down with overnight duffel bags, shopping bags with wrapped presents in them, the ingredients for mashed potatoes, the vegetable casserole that Sebastian made, and a candy cane cheesecake. Tomorrow, they’ll all part ways for a while; Chris will drive to Boston in the afternoon, Sebastian will take a train to New York, and Hayley and Anthony will fly south to New Orleans to see his family. Today is for the four of them to celebrate together, just like Hayley had wanted. She’s casual, in skinny jeans and a pullover and her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, because it’s just them. Her expression is one of delight as they bustle into her house, with a generous gust of frigid wind and snowflakes following behind them before Sebastian quickly shuts the door against the cold.  
   
He carries the food into the kitchen, Hayley following behind him, and Chris takes a stack of presents into the living room, finding Anthony doing the same; arranging packages and boxes around the base of their Christmas tree. It’s real, unlike the slightly scrawny artificial one Chris has in his house, and Chris inhales deeply when he gets close enough. Pine is his favorite smell.  
   
“Your boys gonna make it to the end again this year, you think?” Anthony asks.  
   
Chris doesn’t need clarification to understand what he means. The Super Bowl is in just over a month, and he’s cautiously optimistic about the Patriots' chances of being in it. “We’ll see, but that’d be fucking awesome. I was actually at the game when they won in 2015, it was wild. Last year was a heartbreaker.”  
   
“Got any plans to watch it?”  
   
“Nothing solid yet.” Chris smacks him lightly on the arm. “With you, though, of course. Wherever we watch.”  
   
“Sweet.” Anthony grins at him.  
   
“Having sort of a difficult time lately loving Brady as much as I used to,” Chris admits, following Anthony to the couch and sitting opposite him, leaning against the arm. “All the fuckin’ MAGA stuff, I don’t know what’s wrong with him. After everything Trump’s done. It’s shitty.”  
   
Anthony looks just slightly relieved to hear Chris say that. He shrugs and makes a joke of it. “White people. What can you do.”  
   
Chris laughs. “I wish you were wrong.”  
   
“You’re not thinking of defecting, are you? I feel like you’d be excommunicated from your hometown.”  
   
“You’re not wrong about that either.” Chris sighs and stretches his arms up over his head, before draping his left across the back of the couch. “I’ve been a fan since I was a kid, I’m not sure you can just turn that off, you know? It sucks, though, that he’s … it’s just disappointing.”  
   
Anthony nods.  
   
Sebastian and Hayley come into the room, Hayley carrying a tray of steaming mugs that Chris can tell are hot chocolate from the sweet scent that wafts off them. Hayley puts a Christmas music playlist on through the sound system in the room after she sets the tray down on the coffee table. Sebastian takes advantage of the fact that Chris’s arm is already outstretched along the top of the sofa and takes up residence in the space it creates, tucked up against Chris’s side. Chris smiles and hugs him.  
   
In the evening, after they’ve all eaten way too much and laughed so hard Chris’s cheeks are sore, Hayley starts gathering armfuls of pillows and blankets and makes a bed out of them on the floor in the living room, with Anthony tugging the coffee table to the other end of the room to make way. She declares it a pyjama party and instructs everyone to change, and then they settle on the floor together and she puts Elf on for them to watch.  
   
“I like this, I think,” she muses, sitting with her back against the foot of the couch, one arm around Anthony and the other around Sebastian. Chris is on Sebastian’s other side. “A little harem of all my favorite boys.”  
   
“Adult men weren’t allowed in harems,” Sebastian points out.  
   
“Yes, darling, I know that.” She pats his head, teasingly condescending.  
   
Chris loves this movie, and it’s been a few years since he’s seen it. He resists the urge to quote his favorite lines as they’re spoken on screen, but he and Hayley do yell, “Santa!! I know him!” together along with Will Ferrell, and Anthony laughs as he groans, “shit, there’s two of them.”  
   
Sebastian responds by slouching a little further down and getting himself snuggled into Chris’s arms. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris can’t help but notice the way Hayley beams at them.  
   
As the credits role, Anthony and Sebastian have both fallen asleep. Anthony is on his back with his head turned away from them, snoring softly. Sebastian has his head on Chris’s shoulder, his body warm and heavy against Chris’s side. Hayley reaches for the remote and shuts the television off, so they’re left in just the warm glow of the white lights from her Christmas tree. Outside the windows, snow drifts are rising up the side of the house, swept in by the wind.  
   
Hayley smiles at him, and reaches out to stroke Sebastian’s hair where he’s tucked in between them, and says to Chris, “excited for Christmas with your family?”  
   
“I am.” Chris shifts, moving just enough to get his arm out from under Sebastian’s body and tuck it around him. “He met them a few weeks ago. My family.”   
   
He isn’t sure what prompts him to say it, and he shouldn’t be surprised when she simply answers, “I know.”  
   
“He tells you everything, I guess.”  
   
“I’m sure not  _everything_. But many things.” Her forehead wrinkles in a small frown. “Does that bother you?”  
   
“No,” Chris answers honestly. “Just means you end up knowing me better than I know you.”  
   
“We’ll have to fix that.” She touches his arm, briefly, and then drags her fingers through his hair, as well, pushing it off his forehead. She turns onto her side, facing him, with her head pillowed under her hand.  
   
“How am I doin’, so far?” Chris wants to know. “With him.”  
   
“He’s madly in love with you,” Hayley replies. It warms Chris’s skin everywhere.  
   
“He’s been through some things, hasn’t he?” Out of nowhere, Chris makes the decision to just come out with it. He says it softly, barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake Sebastian up.  
   
She falters, looking caught off guard.  
   
“I’m not asking you to tell me what they are,” Chris clarifies.   
   
“What has he told you?” Hayley asks, carefully, trying to feel for whatever Chris might already know, so she doesn’t accidentally spill any secrets.  
   
“Some things about Romania. Some things about New York, about being bullied at school. It’s … not so much what he’s said. It’s the things he doesn’t say.” Chris bites the inside of his cheek. He debates, for a moment, whether he should tell her about the nightmare, or about the series of smaller ones Sebastian’s had since. An episode as dramatic as the first one hasn’t happened again, but sometimes Chris wakes up in the night to the soft sound of Sebastian making little hurt noises in his sleep, that quiet as soon as Chris wraps his arms around him. In sleep, Sebastian feels safe in Chris’s arms. He needs to figure out how to translate that trust to their waking hours.  
   
“We all go through what we go through,” is the vague, non-committal answer she offers. “I know he loves you.”  
   
“He has nightmares,” Chris says. As soon as he says it, he regrets betraying Sebastian and wishes he hadn’t, but by then it’s too late to take it back. “Not every night. But sometimes. And one really bad one. He said it wasn’t about Romania but … I don’t think I believe him.”  
   
Her forehead twists again, and her mouth goes into a flat line, and he interprets in her face that there are things she wants to say, but can’t.  
   
“I’m really not asking you to tell me anything,” he swears. “I’m so happy he has you, I would never ask you to go behind his back. I just … I don’t know how to let him know he can trust me. He’s helped me with a lot of things … a ton of things, honestly, I wasn’t even out to my family when I met him. And I love him for that, but sometimes I’m worried he focuses so much on me and my shit because he’s trying not to focus on his own. I just wanna help him too, you know? I want him to let me.”  
   
“Look at him.” Hayley nods down into the space between them and smiles, and as if in sleep Sebastian knows they’re talking about him, he sniffs and shifts in a little closer. Chris rubs Sebastian’s arm that’s draped across his chest. “He does trust you. Keep doing precisely what you’re doing. Love him, make him feel safe. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”  
   
Chris nods again, and smiles back at her. “I do love him.”  
   
“I know that. He told me the morning after you’d said it for the first time. But he didn’t have to. I can see it.” Hayley’s eyes close for a moment, and she exhales deeply. “Has he imprinted on you yet?”  
   
“What?”  
   
“When we first became friends, he would always suggest I borrow his sweatshirts, or lend me soap or laundry detergent, or get me using the same shampoo as he did. I figured out after a while he liked when I smelled like him. He did it to Anthony, too, when we started getting serious, although that turned into more of him stealing Anthony’s clothes than the other way around.” Looking back up at Chris, she smiles too. “It’s a thing he does to people he loves. His way of claiming them.”  
   
Chris thinks back to all the times he’s been loaned clothes of Sebastian’s to sleep in, or all the times Sebastian has gone into Chris’s closet or drawers without asking and picked out a hoodie or a t-shirt. He hadn’t thought anything of it; had assumed it was born simply out of nights they’d spent spontaneously at each other’s homes without anything comfortable to change into. But Sebastian had worn one of Chris’s sweaters the weekend they went to Boston together, and Chris hadn’t initiated that. And maybe, Sebastian has been laying out clean t-shirts and boxers on the chair in his bedroom on purpose, so Chris would find them. He thinks about how many times he’s showered at Sebastian’s apartment, borrowing his shower gel and hair products and lotion, and now is second-guessing how many of those showers were his own idea. Just the other day, Sebastian sprayed cologne on him.  
   
When he comes back out of his internal history review, he finds Hayley grinning at him. “He has, I gather.”  
   
“I didn’t know he was doing that.”  
   
“I don’t think  _he_  knows he’s doing it.”  
   
Chris slides down a little, so he can get Sebastian more fully in his arms. Sebastian snuffles again in his sleep and pushes his face up into Chris’s neck. Whispering again, Chris says, “he really likes it when we share clothes.”  
   
“Keep it up and he’ll keep you forever. If that’s what you want.”  
   
Chris doesn’t answer, in words, but he’s sure she can see his answer anyway, in the way he’s cradling Sebastian in his arms.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Part of Sebastian’s present to him had been an advance copy of his new book. It describes mutinies on slave ships in what Chris is sure will be horrific detail, and argues these smaller rebellions contributed to larger Atlantic revolutions. It won’t be released to the general public until the end of February. Chris had nearly forgotten about it. They’d discussed it way back at the beginning of the semester, before they were dating, but months had since passed without Sebastian mentioning it again. On the inside cover, he’d written  _You weren’t my inspiration for this one, but you will be for the next one. I love you, always._ It’s the first time either of them have said anything to each other approaching the subject of always or forever. Opening it in front of Hayley and Anthony, Chris had to restrain the emotional way he would have reacted if they’d been alone. He thinks Sebastian saw it, anyway, in the way Chris’s voice had wavered and he’d kissed Sebastian in front of their friends and whispered loving words against his mouth.  
   
Christmas morning with his family is how it always is. Loud, and chaotic, and full of excited kids and loving grandparents and lots of laughter. Chris soaks it up, and the smile barely leaves his face for the entire day.   
On Boxing Day, Chris takes Sebastian’s book to the den in the basement in the afternoon, gets himself comfortable on the couch and starts reading. He’s enthralled by it instantly, by the beautiful way Sebastian constructs a sentence, the flow of the words almost lyrical even though it’s academic writing. He’s only halfway through the introduction when he’s interrupted by Scott, but he’s captivated enough that he doesn’t put the book down until Scott physically takes it from him.  
   
“It’s not out, yet,” Chris tells him, sitting up a little. “So you can’t tell anyone about it, like not even the title or anything.”  
   
Scott snickers. “Whom exactly do you think I’m gonna tell? You think I’ve got some kind of shady contacts in the black-market underground history book racket? I’m insulted you think I’m that much of a nerd.”  
   
“I mean it, though.”  
   
“Yeah, so do I. There’s literally no one I could tell who would care enough to leak it.” Sitting next to him, Scott browses through the pages, and lets out a low whistle. “Lotta big words in here. You hooked yourself a Brainiac.”  
   
“You remember he’s a professor, right?”  
   
Scott ignores him. He flips to the end of the book, and scans over the pages of references at the back. “Holy shit, are these all the books he read for research?”  
   
“Books and other things. Journal articles, archival material like newspaper clips and oral accounts.”  
   
“There’s hundreds of them.” Scott blinks at him and then shakes his head. “Damn. Hot and smart.”  
   
Chris grins. “Yep.”  
   
“You got a good one.”  
   
“Read the inscription.”  
   
Scott does, and he makes a face that’s somewhere between endeared and nauseated. “That’s so sweet I’m gonna throw up.”  
   
“You liked him, right?” Chris asks. He isn’t really that unsure about it, just wants the confirmation, because they haven’t had a conversation, just the two of them, since Sebastian was here at the end of November.  
   
Scott rolls his eyes. He sets the book down on the coffee table in front of them, and tucks his leg up on the couch so he can face Chris. “He’s awesome. And he’s perfect for you.”  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“You know we talked for a while, him and I, on that Sunday morning when you were out back helping Dad fix the snow-blower.”  
   
“Oh God,” Chris laughs and groans at the same time. “What did you say to him?”  
   
“Nothing!” Scott protests. He smiles. “He just told me all about how much I mean to you. How important I am to you, how much you loooove me.”  
   
“Fuck off,” Chris complains, as Scott pokes him repeatedly in the shoulder. “Lies, every word of it. I paid him to say that.”  
   
“Mhm.” The annoyingly smug grin doesn’t fade from Scott’s face. “I’m sure that’s exactly what happened.”  
   
Chris shakes his head, and chuckles in defeat. “Okay, fine. I may have said a thing or two vaguely on that topic.”  
   
“About how we’re best friends, and I’m your favorite person in the whole world, and it mattered so much to you that I liked your new boyfriend?” Scott teases.  
   
“Something like that.” Chris swallows, and just for a moment allows gravity to weigh the conversation back down. “He knows how bad I felt for lying to you all those years, about who I am.”  
   
For the space of a few breaths, Scott doesn’t respond. When he does, it’s to stretch his legs out on the coffee table and slide down a few inches against the cushions so he can rest his head on Chris’s shoulder. They were physically close when they were younger, always sneaking into each other’s beds and sitting like this on the couch upstairs while they watched television, and sometimes Chris wishes that hadn’t faded with adulthood.  
   
“You weren’t lying,” Scott says eventually. “You just weren’t ready. Gotta stop beating yourself up about that. There’s no right time to be ready, you just … are when you are.”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris nods, and gently elbows Scott in the arm. “Thanks.”  
   
“Come out with me tonight,” Scott requests. Before Chris can answer, he clarifies, “not trolling for a hook-up, if that’s where your mind went. A bunch of people we went to high school with are getting together at the L Street Tavern, since so many of us are home for Christmas. You can show off your fancy doctorate degree and show everyone pictures of your Yale professor boyfriend.”  
   
Just for a heartbeat, the idea of his old classmates knowing Chris is dating a man makes him anxious, but then the feeling is gone quicker than it came, and something bordering on excitement passes through him at the prospect of being confident about it and unbothered by it with a group of people he hasn’t seen in years. Of reconnecting with old friends who’ll be happy for him, and not giving a shit about the ones who won’t. He smiles to himself, proud of the progress he’s made, and agrees to tag along.  
   
*           *           *


	20. Chapter 20

“Will you be requiring butler service for your stay, Dr. Stan?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. He’s going for luxury, because Chris deserves to be pampered a little, not self-importance. It’s embarrassing enough that Chris will find out his parents have a housekeeper and a chef and private security. The idea of an assigned hotel butler picking their dirty socks up off the floor is too much entirely. Let alone what else he might have to pick up. Sebastian imagines boxers and used condoms and empty bottles of lubricant and blushes even though he’s only thinking it.  
   
“We’ll be fine,” he says.  
   
“Please let us know if you change your mind at any point.” The concierge smiles at him, friendly and hospitable.   
   
She knows who he is. Sebastian can tell. People in Manhattan often do. It’s a large part of why he doesn’t spend very much time here anymore. Elsewhere, he’s known and respected for his work, for his intelligence and his research and his accomplishments. In this city, it’s because of his family and his inheritance. If he’s going to be recognized by a stranger, Sebastian would much rather it be for something he’s actually earned.  
   
A bell-hop takes him up to the suite on the 19th floor. It’s enormous and it’s nowhere near the biggest one in the place. There’s a suite that takes up almost the entire top floor. Sebastian knows because he’s been there, for a party thrown by one of his high school classmates after their prom. He’s attempting to toe the line between extravagant and pretentious, and besides, they don’t need multiple bedrooms and a dining room that seats twelve. Sebastian certainly knows people in this city he could invite over for dinner. He knows people who would show up in pearls and shoes that cost more than half a year’s rent on his apartment, and could spend the evening making sparkly, fake conversation, all the while pretending they don’t remember cocaine-fueled parties and having sex way too young and being accepted to Harvard because their parents donated a wing to the medical school. He has no desire to do so. Showing Chris off to his old acquaintances would just end in them looking down their noses at a middle-class kid from the Boston suburbs who’d worked three part-time jobs to pay for his education, and had gone to a Canadian university because they’re a fraction of the cost of American schools. He’d sooner throw himself into the Hudson River in December than subject Chris to that.  
   
He tips the bell-hop generously and blows out a breath once he’s alone. He’d chosen this suite because it’s on a corner, with expansive views of Central Park out the windows on one side and Sixth Avenue out the other. He isn’t disappointed. Chris is going to love staring out at the sea of trees, painted in fluffy white snow. The suite is stylishly decorated, and expansive but not unnecessarily so. There is a sitting room, and a king sized bed, and a giant bathtub. The floor and walls in the bathroom are swirled sand-colored marble. There is an old-fashioned telescope on one of the window ledges, to help them enjoy the panoramic view. The couch is large and plush, perfect for curling up under a blanket and watching a movie. Fresh flowers are displayed artfully on multiple services. Roses always make Sebastian think of Chris. He touches the velvety petals of the dark red bouquet in the middle of the dining room table, and leans over to smell them. He briefly considers plucking the petals off and spreading them over the crisp white bedspread. He doesn’t, deciding that’s a bit too cheesy.  
   
Chris’s train won’t arrive for a few hours, so Sebastian takes his shoes off and makes himself comfortable on the couch and brings out his laptop. He answers a few emails, and reads an article he’s had bookmarked for a few weeks, taking notes on it extensively in a Word document and making a list of books from the references to add to his never-ending list of things to read. Just after 2pm, he put wraps a Burberry scarf around his neck and buttons his wool coat, steeling himself to go back out into the cold. As he’s on his way out the door, he changes his mind about the roses. It is cheesy, but Chris likes cheesy. Sebastian takes one of the stems from the vase, plucking off a handful of petals and spreading them over the bed.  
   
He takes a car service to the train station. He doesn’t tell the driver to wait. They’ll take a regular yellow cab back, to give Chris the more authentic New York experience. Maybe tomorrow they’ll brave the subway. It’s been many years since Sebastian has lived here, but he’s sure the subway is still as awful as it was when he was 16. He waits, on the platform Chris told him, among the bustle of other travellers and people picking their loved ones up, dogs and kids and an old woman with a shopping cart singing to herself and a group of teenagers laughing and blasting music from a portable speaker. The train pulls in after a few minutes, and Sebastian scans the crowd of passengers disembarking with their luggage. He spots Chris at the same time as Chris spots him. Bearded again, with his navy Red Sox baseball cap on and a bulky red winter coat, Chris hurries towards him, pulling his suitcase behind him. He lets go of it as he gets close enough and pulls Sebastian into a hug so tight he lifts him briefly off the ground.  
   
“Hi,” Sebastian says, laughing and breathless, when Chris puts him down.  
   
“I missed you.” Chris’s hand is cold against Sebastian’s cheek, thumb brushing his skin. His eyes look so blue in the bright afternoon light. Sebastian has spent every day they’ve been apart wishing he could touch Chris and smell him and make him laugh and kiss him stupid. “Merry Christmas.”  
   
“It’s the 28th,” Sebastian reminds him, smiling.  
   
“I know. But I didn’t get to say it in person on the 25th. So I’m saying it now.”  
   
“You said it over the phone, on the 25th. I think about six times.”  
   
Chris smiles at him, and his thumb rubs Sebastian’s bottom lip. “Can I kiss you?”  
   
“Of course.” Sebastian does it first, wrapping his arms back around Chris’s neck and going up on his toes to capture his lips. The brim of his hat knocks Sebastian’s forehead. A teenager walking past jokingly calls at them to get a room. Sebastian barely notices. They have a room, and he gets Chris all to himself, for a full week, before they have to go back to their regular lives.  
   
“Where are we staying?” Chris asks when they break apart.  
   
“The Ritz-Carlton, off Central Park.”  
   
Chris’s eyebrows go up. “Really? Isn’t that place pretty up-scale?”  
   
Sebastian shrugs. “We deserve it. You deserve it.”  
   
“I’m not gonna put out just because you take me back to a fancy hotel room,” Chris jokes.  
   
Sebastian laughs and pokes Chris’s sides through his thick coat. “Oh, you’re not, huh? What if I ask real nicely?”  
   
Chris pretends to think about it. “Maybe if you buy me dinner first.”  
   
“It’s a date.”  
   
Chris kisses his cheek, and picks his suitcase back up. As they leave the station, he adds, “I’m paying for half of it. The room, I mean.”  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian licks his lips and hesitates. “Okay. You really don’t have to, but if you want to.”  
   
“I want to.”  
   
“Okay.”  
   
Chris smiles at him again, and holds his hand while they wait for a cab.  
   
Predictably, his eyebrows raise again when Sebastian lets him into their room. Chris swears under his breath, and laughs softly, joking, “this is literally nicer than my house.”  
   
“I love your house.” Sebastian tells him honestly.   
   
Chris spots the rose petals on the bed as he hauls his suitcase toward the bedroom, and chuckles again. His eyes sparkle as he looks back over his shoulder at Sebastian. “Did you do that, or is housekeeping trying to help you get laid?”  
   
Sebastian shrugs, and the smile won’t leave his face. “Is it going to work?”  
   
“Oh, definitely.” Chris sets his suitcase on the wooden stand next to the bed, and then walks back over. Sebastian leans in, wrapping his arms around Chris’s waist and kissing his neck.  
   
“What do you want to see first?”  
   
Chris drapes his own over Sebastian’s shoulders and plays with his hair. “Everything. The giant tree at Rockefeller Center. I remember something about you promising to kiss me at the top of the Empire State Building. Also kinda wanna stay here and test out that bathtub.”  
   
Sebastian hums, and kisses his lips. Chris is warm against him, in a big cozy sweater, and his lips are soft and his hands feel nice in Sebastian’s hair, and he is very on board with staying in for the rest of the afternoon. They have lots of time. Right now, he wants Chris naked and wet and covered in bubbles.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian does kiss him at the top of the Empire State Building, with soft snowflakes falling around them and the city lights twinkling below. He takes Chris to all the typical tourist spots, and to everything Christmas related he can think of. They do take in the tree at Rockefeller Center, and Chris stares at it with shiny eyes and parted lips like it’s the most magical thing he’s ever set eyes on. Sebastian takes him to Macy’s to watch kids lined up to meet Santa among the toys and decorations, and to the holiday windows at Bergdorf’s, and for hot chocolate at Sant Ambroeus.   
   
Chris approaches it all with wide eyes and genuine excitement and boyish smiles, and Sebastian more than once finds himself overwhelmed in feelings warm enough to block out the December chill. Chris is so open with his emotions, and Sebastian loves it so much. For most of his life, he’s been guarded. Wary of letting people get too close, cognizant of how much of himself he lets others have access to. People are easier to break, he figures, when they hand over sections of their heart too freely and just have to hope the hands they put those pieces in will be gentle. Chris isn’t like that. He’s vulnerable, in the most beautiful way. He doesn’t worry about laughing too loudly or caring too deeply or loving too much. Sebastian has known this for months, but he’s reminded of it, stronger than ever, watching Chris with his face lit up as they walk hand in hand through the snow and the lights and the holiday music playing in Central Park. Sebastian loves him a life-changing amount, and says as much, even though it makes his heart race nervously to admit something so precarious.  
   
Chris stops, and leans Sebastian against the stone rail of the bridge they’re standing on, and presses his cold lips into Sebastian’s. He stays close, when he lets his mouth fall away, forehead pressed into Sebastian’s and gloved hands on his hips. Softly, he murmurs, “I love you, more than I ever thought would be possible. The ceiling I thought existed, it doesn’t, with you. Or if it does, you blew a hole through it.”  
   
“You’re high on Christmas,” Sebastian tells him, because Chris’s words leave his knees threatening to give out.  
   
“I am,” Chris agrees. “But I’d still be saying this, even if I wasn’t. Every day I think I love you as much as I possibly could, and then I wake up with you in my arms and I love you a bit more.”  
   
“Chris,” Sebastian whispers.  
   
Chris answers with another kiss, soft and so heartfelt Sebastian can feel it in the tips of his fingers and every inch of his skin.  
   
*           *           *  
   
They visit Sebastian’s parents, on the 30th. He’s anxious before, about a lot of things. About his Step-Father, about Chris’s reaction to the penthouse on Fifth Avenue where Sebastian spent his adolescence, about whether his Mom is going to insist on telling embarrassing stories. Chris’s eyes do go wide as he takes in the ridiculous expanse of the apartment, but he catches himself and doesn’t gawk; shakes hands and lets Georgeta hug him, just like Lisa had with Sebastian. His Step-Father is luckily having a fairly good day; not as forgetful as he can be sometimes, and he only tells Chris the same stories over again a few times. Chris is so patient with him. He sits in their living room in the chair next to the window, and listens intently to a story about Sebastian ripping his pants during a school play in Vienna, nodding and laughing as if he hadn’t already heard it a half hour earlier.  
   
“You’re happy, puiul meu?” Georgeta asks Sebastian, in Romanian.  
   
He nods, and answers back in his first language. “I’m happy.”  
   
“So good to hear that.” She smoothes his hair off his face. It’s long enough these days to fall into his eyes when he hasn’t styled it, and it’s messy right now from the wind and the wet snow that fell on them as they walked here from the hotel. “You look well. Healthy. It’s maybe been too long since I’ve seen you like this.”  
   
“I was … fine,” Sebastian sighs. He gets a quick glance from Chris, from across the room. Chris frowns, like he’s asking without words if everything is alright, and Sebastian nods at him. He remembers Chris can’t understand what they’re saying, but he doesn’t switch to English. If Chris could understand them, it might lead to a conversation Sebastian isn’t quite ready to have. Not yet.  
   
“You were fine,” Georgeta agrees. “That’s not the same as happy.”  
   
Sebastian nods again. “You’re right.”  
   
“He loves you?”  
   
“He does,” Sebastian answers honestly. Even in his most insecure moments, he doesn’t doubt that Chris loves him. “Have you ever thought about going back to Constanţa?”  
   
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Chris looking over again. That word, he recognized.  
   
Georgeta frowns and tilts her head. “You want to visit?”  
   
Sebastian considers the question for a moment, and runs through half a dozen excuses, but then settles on honesty, instead. “I want to stop running from things. To start replacing bad memories with good ones, instead of hiding from them. We could help. There’s still poverty and corruption and children on the streets whose mothers don’t have the means to whisk them off to America. There must be something we could do. We should help.”  
   
Her eyes are misty as she keeps stroking his hair. “My little bear cub.”  
   
“I could set up a foundation, or a charity. Or a place where kids could go, so they don’t have to steal from tourists just to get something to eat.”  
   
“This is his doing?” she asks, nodding her head sideways in Chris’s direction.  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “Not entirely. I haven’t talked to him about it. But he … makes me want to do better. To be better.”  
   
“Anything you need. Of course we would support you.”  
   
“Would you go back with me?”  
   
She hesitates, and looks down at her lap.  
   
Sebastian shifts in a little closer on the couch, and takes her hand. “I know. Mamă, I know. But we’d tackle it together. Put a new face on it.”  
   
She brings his hand up to her mouth to kiss his knuckles. “I did always know my sweet little boy was still in there somewhere.”  
   
He winces. “Was I really horrible?”  
   
“No.” She shakes her head and squeezes his hand. “You were hurting.”  
   
“It isn’t all magically fixed.” Sebastian looks at Chris again, and smiles at him. “But I’m in love with him. And that makes heavy things feel lighter.”  
   
“I’m so happy for you.” She touches his cheek, and he leans into her hand.  
   
Later, on their way from the living room after dinner has been announced, Chris grabs Sebastian’s wrist and holds him back in the hallway. His eyebrows are scrunched in concern. “Everything okay?”  
   
“Yeah.” Sebastian slides his arms around Chris’s shoulders and kisses him lightly. “Everything’s great.”  
   
“You sure?” Chris’s hands find his hips, keeping him in close. “Looked kinda serious, over there.”  
   
“Not the bad kind of serious. I promise I’ll tell you about it later.” Sebastian presses another kiss to the corner of Chris’s downturned mouth.  
   
Chris hugs him, and they linger in the hallway for just another minute before following Sebastian’s parents into the dining room.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“I’m not opposed to going out.” Sebastian moves in behind Chris and encircles his arms around him. He kisses the back of Chris’s neck. Chris is standing by the window in the sitting area, staring out at the lights of Sixth Avenue. It’s dark early because it’s December. As he figured would happen, Chris is a little addicted to the view from their hotel room.  
   
“But?” Chris prompts. He leans back a little into Sebastian.  
   
“It’s New Year’s Eve, and it’s Manhattan.” Sebastian nuzzles into him, smelling his own shampoo in Chris’s hair. “It’s going to be nuts. We’ll be lucky to get a cab.”  
   
Chris turns in his arms. “Trying to keep me in so you can have your way with me?”  
   
“Maybe.” Sebastian smiles back. “I mean, yes, obviously. I’m also right, it’s the busiest night of the year in this city. But even if it wasn’t, of course I’d rather stay here and have you all to myself.”  
   
“You don’t wanna watch the ball drop?”  
   
“We’ll go if you want to,” Sebastian answers honestly. “Dance with the crowd to whatever popstar is playing this year, joke about how Anderson Cooper could get it, kiss you at midnight. But I have done it before, and it’s honestly not that great. It’s cold and there’s a million people and I’m pretty sure Anderson Cooper has a boyfriend.”  
   
Chris laughs, and his eyes twinkle as he shakes his head. He’s been so happy, since they’ve been here. Wrapped up in the holidays and in spending every second together. It’s like he’s more  _Chris_  than normal. All the amazing things about him are just that much more intense. His laugh is louder and his enthusiasm is stronger and his smiles are brighter.  
   
“Okay, talk me out of it. What’s your counter offer?”  
   
“How about we take a shower.” Sebastian moves in a little closer to kiss Chris’s jaw. “Get into those fluffy bath robes. Order an irresponsible amount of room service. Watch a movie.”  
   
“Are there orgasms at the end of this plan?”  
   
“Got any left?” Sebastian jokes. He squeezes Chris’s waist. “You’ve been kinda hard to keep up with this week.”  
   
“I got lots left,” Chris promises, wiggling his eyebrows and then dipping down for a kiss.   
   
Sebastian opens his mouth against Chris’s and lets Chris taste him for a minute before he pulls back. “So? Convinced?”  
   
“You had me at bath robes.”  
   
Chuckling, Sebastian slides his fingers through Chris’s hair. “You’re a dork. And I love you.”  
   
“Me too.”  
   
Sebastian is unsurprised to discover Chris looks good in a terry-towel robe. They’re soft, and he’s warm, and Sebastian snuggles up to him on the couch and feeds him a French fry and lets Chris kiss him with ketchup on his tongue. They don’t pay particularly close attention to the sappy Christmas movie Chris puts on. It provides pleasant background noise as they eat, and kiss, and talk about nothing. Around most people, Sebastian is always aware of the fence he has up around himself, always being deliberate about what he says and the facial expressions he makes, keeping control of himself. With Chris, he doesn’t. He just lets himself exist. They’re barely halfway through the movie when they abandon it completely, Chris lying on top of Sebastian on the couch, kissing him languidly. Lazy, unhurried passes of his lips and sweeps of his tongue, like Chris has every intention of drawing it out for hours. Sebastian is very on board with that plan.  
   
“Would you do something for me?” Chris asks. He says the words softly into Sebastian’s cheek, his lips warm and wet and leaving trails of moisture behind them.  
   
“Probably. Depends what it is, but probably.”  
   
“I wanna watch you touch yourself.”  
   
Sebastian’s heart skips a beat. “Oh.”  
   
“Not if you really don’t want to, obviously, I just … don’t usually get to see it.”  
   
His lips find Sebastian’s ear, and he sucks at the thin skin just underneath, and for a moment Sebastian forgets anything else. Chris’s thigh is moving between his legs, just minutely rocking back and forth, and it’s distracting. After a moment, Sebastian asks. “it?”  
   
“When you come,” Chris whispers to him, kissing along his hairline. “It’s usually, you know. I wanna watch, up close. See how you’d touch yourself if you were alone, see what you like.”  
   
Sebastian nods, heart racing, caught halfway between arousal and apprehension.  
   
“If you’re into it,” Chris says again, with another kiss to Sebastian’s lips. “No pressure.”  
   
“I trust you,” Sebastian tells him, and he does. “How d’you want me?”  
   
“Every way I can have you,” Chris teases, and they share a quiet laugh before he gets up and pulls Sebastian to his feet, his robe undone and dishevelled. He reaches around for the backs of Sebastian’s thighs and scoops him up off the floor like he weighs nothing at all, and carries him over to the bed. Sebastian slides back down to the floor when they get closer, and Chris turns them around, sitting down in front of him so he can pull at the knot keeping Sebastian’s robe closed. He parts the material, and Sebastian lets it fall off his arms and to the floor in a circle around his ankles.   
   
Chris stares at him, eyes a little shiny, and tips forward to place a kiss just above Sebastian’s bellybutton. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Still gets my heart racing.”  
   
Sebastian rests his hands on Chris’s shoulders as Chris noses at his half-hard cock, tongue flicking out to taste just briefly, and then smiling up at Sebastian with an overwhelming amount of affection shining in his eyes. Sebastian bends down to kiss him. Chris shrugs out of his own robe and moves backwards on the bed, until he’s sitting against the mountain of pillows at the headboard. He pats the bedspread between his legs, and Sebastian joins him and settles against his chest, back to front, so Chris can look down at him over his shoulder. Chris runs his hands over Sebastian’s chest, thumbs brushing his nipples, and kisses his cheek. He just laves attention on him for a few minutes, and Sebastian rests his hands on Chris’s knees on either side of his hips and nearly forgets what Chris had wanted. He doesn’t mind being on display like this, not when Chris is touching him and whispering compliments to him between soft kisses to his temples. Then Chris picks up Sebastian’s right hand, and guides it between his legs.  
   
“Tell me, um.” Sebastian curls his fingers around himself, stroking lightly a few times. “What you want me to do?”  
   
Chris shakes his head. “Not the point. Want you to do what you wanna do. What you like, what feels good.”  
   
Sebastian nods. His cock fills as he moves his fist, but there’s tension in his shoulders and it feels at first like he’s putting on a show; very aware that he’s being watched. Chris’s hands keep moving, over his chest, across his stomach, down the tops of his thighs. His fingers dip lower, to the insides of Sebastian’s thighs where the skin is more sensitive. He parts Sebastian’s legs a little further, picking one up and draping it across his own so Sebastian is spread out even more, every inch of him an exhibition for Chris. His hand starts to feel good, and he relaxes, leaning back fully into Chris.  
   
“That’s it,” Chris murmurs to him.  
   
Sebastian exhales. He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading some of the moisture down. He hasn’t really done this much in the last few months. He isn’t a teenager anymore, needing to get off every day or his brain wouldn’t function properly, and more often than not lately he’s ended up in a bed with Chris at the end of the day. They don’t always do any more than sleep. There are nights when they’re exhausted from teaching and have tension headaches from staring at computer screens and they just crash. But Chris is relatively insatiable, and Sebastian hasn’t had any complaints about it. He’s almost unpracticed, at getting himself off. It takes him a bit to get back into the rhythm of it. He twists his fist and squeezes around the head, tremors radiating out from his own touch, and exhales again, heavier this time.  
   
“Got no idea,” Chris is saying softly to him. His hand reaches down, fingers scratching through the hair at the base of Sebastian’s cock, down a little further to cup his balls briefly, and then the touch falls away. “No idea what you do to me.”  
   
“Got some idea,” Sebastian answers. He mimics what Chris had just done; takes his balls in his other hand and starts massaging. Behind him, Chris swears softly. “I can feel it against my back.”  
   
A low, throaty chuckle, and Chris drags wet lips along his cheek. “You can, huh? Feel how much I want you?”  
   
“Mhm,” Sebastian hums.  
   
Chris’s fingers curl around his thighs again, blunt nails pressing into the skin. “Talk to me. Tell me how it feels, what you’re thinkin’ about.”  
   
Sebastian licks his lips. He tilts his head to the side, resting it against Chris’s jaw. “Feels good. I like …” he digs his thumb into the slit where he’s leaking.  
   
“I know you like that.” Chris’s breath is warm on his cheek. “You like it even better when I do it with my tongue.”  
   
A thick shiver runs through Sebastian, and it earns him another deep silky laugh from Chris. He lifts Sebastian’s leg up more, gives him even more room to work and even more room for Chris to see everything. There’s still a faint whisper of embarrassment, but it feels too good, now, and Chris behind him, surrounding him, whispering to him in that arousal-husky voice, has Sebastian’s head spinning. He lets his left hand travel further, one fingertip finding his hole and rubbing against it. Chris’s breath hitches – he liked that, so Sebastian does it again.  
   
“Before we’d ever done anything …” Chris nudges Sebastian to move his head to the other side so he can hunch down and suck on his neck as he talks. “Did you do this? Thinkin’ about me?”  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian answers breathlessly. “Our first official date … you were so sweet and gorgeous and the way you kissed me …”  
   
“I’m never, for the rest of my life, gonna forget that kiss,” Chris tells him. There’s more than arousal in his voice as he says it. “I wanted you so bad. Kissing you felt like fireworks, the way it’s always described in some dumb movie even though it never really feels that way in real life, but with you it did.”  
   
Sebastian quickens the pace of his hand, still twisting but faster, now.  
   
“Then you were in my lap,” Chris continues. “Rubbing on me, putting your tongue in my mouth, God, I wanted to just throw you down on the couch. Took every fuckin’ ounce of strength I had to walk away.”  
   
“After you left, I …” Sebastian trails off on a low moan and his head falls back against Chris’s shoulder. Chris swears again.  
   
“What did you do after I left?” Chris prompts.  
   
“Lied down on my bed and jerked myself off,” Sebastian pants. “Thinking about your hands doing it instead, thinking about how much I wanted you to blow me and fuck me and just. Everything. Came pretty hard.”  
   
“Jesus, Sebastian,” Chris breathes. “I want you to come, okay?”  
   
Sebastian nods, and moves his hand even faster. Chris quietly urges him on, his fingernails almost hurting where they’re digging into Sebastian’s thighs. It hits, and Sebastian’s cock twitches and spurts onto his stomach. His whole body twitches as the aftershocks pulse through him, and Chris is holding him so tightly and breathing hard against his ear. He pushes Sebastian’s hands away, and replaces them with his own, playing with him gently while he’s still sensitive.  
   
“Don’t even think about falling asleep,” Chris rasps. His lips attach to Sebastian’s neck again, and his hand almost hurts on Sebastian’s still-hard cock, and almost feels good at the same time, and leaves Sebastian a helpless blob in his arms. “M’not done with you yet. Not even close.”  
   
Chris moves slightly underneath him; Sebastian cracks one eye open to see Chris leaning to the side and reaching for the drawer in the nightstand on his side of the bed. He opens it, and takes out something long and mostly cylindrical and lime green and it takes Sebastian a moment to realize what it is. He groans, half in anticipation and half in dread, and drops his head back onto Chris’s shoulder.  
   
Chris chuckles and brings the toy over to trail its soft, silicone tip down Sebastian’s chest, through the mess he’d made on himself. “You ever?”  
   
“Yes.” Sebastian keeps his eyes closed. Belatedly, he realizes it’s possible this is something Chris has owned for a while, has used on  _himself_ , and the thought has electric tremors filtering through him. “How long have you been hiding that from me?”  
   
“Just bought it before I came here,” Chris tells him, ruining Sebastian’s fantasies, but Chris’s other hand is gently playing with his cock, fingers slowly coaxing it hard again, and Sebastian is too distracted to mind. “Felt a bit weird, leaving Dodger at my parents’ house and pretending to be going to Walmart and actually going to a sex shop.”  
   
“Somehow I feel like your Mom would’ve been happier if you’d told her the truth.”  
   
“Maybe let’s not talk about my Mom while I’ve got my hand on your dick,” Chris says, even though he’d brought it up. He nudges Sebastian’s face with his nose. “Open your eyes. Want you to watch, too.”  
   
Sebastian does, looking down at Chris dragging the toy through Sebastian’s release over his stomach, coating the angled tip in it.  
   
“The kid I talked to at the shop excitedly told me all about how the end of it where it’s curved is gonna press right against your sweet spot.”  
   
“That sounds like an embarrassing conversation,” Sebastian comments, impressed with the way he manages to keep his voice steady, as blood is filling his erection again and arousal courses through his veins.  
   
Chris laughs. “It was. He was like 20, too, so that made it much worse. But, if it makes you come as hard as the kid said it would, it’ll be worth it.”  
   
He moves it lower, tracing it up and down the length of Sebastian’s cock, and then pressing it gently just under the head and flicking a switch with his thumb to turn it on. Sebastian jumps, and then melts back into Chris’s chest, the toy sending shockwaves through him.  
   
“Of course it fucking vibrates,” he grumbles. “You definitely don’t want me to live to see 2019.”  
   
“We’ve got about an hour left to find out.” Chris pushes the toy against the tip of Sebastian’s cock, into the slit where he’s leaking again like it’s a lightening rod. It feels vaguely like being electrocuted and Sebastian hears himself whimper. “How many times you think I can make you come before midnight?”  
   
He doesn’t wait for an answer, and Sebastian doesn’t know what he’d say anyway. He moves the buzzing toy down, rubbing it softly over Sebastian’s balls and lower, pressing into the spot behind them. That has stars bursting behind Sebastian’s eyes as they fall closed again.  
   
“Scooch down a bit.”  
   
Chris helps him; Sebastian slides his hips down a bit further on the bed, giving Chris easier access. Chris kisses the top of Sebastian’s head, and Sebastian blinks up at him.  
   
“Think you’re relaxed enough that this could just slip right in?” Chris asks, as he circles the tip of it around Sebastian’s hole. He says it in a dark, stirred voice, but Sebastian can tell he’s also really asking.  
   
It isn’t that thick, and Sebastian’s so turned on he’s nearly seeing double, so he nods. “Probably.”  
   
His other hand reaching back to the nightstand for lube to coat the toy with, Chris warns, “tell me if it doesn’t feel good, we’ll stop and stretch you first.”  
   
“I know. I will.” Sebastian reaches behind himself to grab for Chris’s hair so he can tug his face down and kiss him upside down. Chris dips his tongue into Sebastian’s mouth as he presses the toy forward, breaching Sebastian’s body. Sebastian inhales at the sting, but it’s brief and it’s mellow, and he shakes his head to tell Chris not to stop. Chris goes slow, working it in as he plunders Sebastian’s mouth with his tongue. Sebastian’s whole body feels like it’s vibrating as Chris gets it fully seated and it presses on his prostate like Chris said it would. Sebastian swears harshly and grips Chris’s leg.  
   
“How’s it feel?” Chris asks, sounding awestruck.  
   
“Fucking … intense,” Sebastian manages to answer, feeling like he’s going to shake out of his skin. It sends waves of pleasure from deep inside, radiating out to his extremities. His cock leaks again against his stomach, and he cries out as Chris moves the toy, moving it slowly in and out.  
   
“Look at you, fuck,” Chris says, breathy, sounding like he’s the one being teased and tortured and not the one inflicting it. Sparks fly through Sebastian’s veins and he’s moaning, and it’s loud in his own ears and he can’t stop.  
   
“Chris,” he gasps.  
   
“I can’t get enough of you.” Chris’s free hand pinches Sebastian’s nipple, reaches down and slides the heel of his palm up the underside of Sebastian’s cock, and then moves it down between his legs to press the tip of his forefinger in alongside the toy.  
   
Sebastian’s eyes slam closed and he rocks down against it, wanting both to chase after more and crawl in the opposite direction away from it because it’s too much.  
   
“You know that, don’t you?” Chris asks. Sebastian can’t tell if Chris is even talking to him anymore, or just to himself, a running commentary of words that light Sebastian up nearly as much as everything else Chris is doing. “You know it, you know how desperate I am for you, you know how much it feels like I’ll die sometimes if I can’t get my hands on you.”  
   
Like he meant to go slowly, draw this out until Sebastian’s sobbing, but then suddenly can’t hold back, Chris shoves the toy in hard, pushing it right up against Sebastian’s prostate and leaving it there. It buzzes unrelentingly, and Sebastian falls to pieces, coming untouched with a shout. Chris is whispering above him, softly swearing, a broken little chorus that Sebastian can barely hear over the rushing in his head. Chris gently slides the toy out and shuts it off, and Sebastian shudders, twitching like withdrawal, electric shocks coursing through his body. Chris gets himself out from underneath Sebastian. His weak, nearly lifeless body bounces on the bed as Chris crawls around him, down toward Sebastian’s legs. He lifts them up and bends Sebastian in half, pushing his face between Sebastian’s ass cheeks and licking him. The sound that falls from Sebastian’s lips is nothing short of pathetic, high pitched and whiny. Chris licks and sucks like he’s dying of thirst, humming against him and pushing two fingers in alongside his tongue so he can spread them apart and lick Sebastian’s insides between them.  
   
With a ragged gasp, Chris suddenly stops, and crawls back up Sebastian’s body to slam their mouths together hard enough to hurt. Sebastian comes back to himself a little bit, grabbing Chris’s face and kissing him back.   
   
“Wanted … fuck,” Chris rasps. His tongue swirls around Sebastian’s. “Wanted to ride you, next, but I fucking … it’ll take too long, to get me … need you right fucking now.”  
   
“Fuck me,” Sebastian growls at him, Chris’s desperation catching like it’s contagious and spreading into Sebastian’s chest, making him want to be pounded into, when just minutes ago he’d been questioning whether he’d ever be able to move again.  
   
Chris reaches for the third time to the nightstand, fumbling blind for a condom, but Sebastian stops him, something reckless coming over him.  
   
“Don’t need it,” he says. “Right?”  
   
Chris blinks at him. It’s the first time since they started that Sebastian gets a good look at his face. Chris’s pupils are blown so wide they nearly eclipse the blue, and his cheeks are bright pink and there’s sweat beaded around his hairline. He looks fucked out and broken already, even though Sebastian’s barely touched him.  
   
“You’ve been tested,” Sebastian reminds him. Chris had told him, months ago, about sitting in a doctor’s office fighting back tears, after finding out his boyfriend had been cheating on him, terrified he’d been infected with something by a person he thought he could trust. “So have I, just before we started dating. Hasn’t been anyone else since you.”  
   
The kiss Chris presses to his lips is softer than the last, and it leaves Sebastian’s mouth tingling. “Are you sure?”  
   
Sebastian nods. “Wanna feel you. I’ve never let anybody come in me before. Ever. It’ll be just you.”  
   
Chris groans like he’s in pain and attacks Sebastian’s mouth again. He reaches to the other side, instead, groping for the lube he’d discarded on the bed beside him earlier. He sits back onto his heels, coating himself in it as Sebastian moves back up the bed a little so he can rest his head on a pillow. Chris looks at him, something important shining in his eyes, and reaches for another pillow that he helps Sebastian get under his hips. He leans over, kissing Sebastian deeply as he slides into his body, nothing between them, just skin against slippery skin. It knocks the breath out of Sebastian’s lungs. It feels important, the moment suddenly weighted in heavy significance, and he clings to Chris as he starts to move. Slow, at first, just for a minute or two to let Sebastian fully adjust, and then sharper thrusts of his hips. He finds Sebastian’s prostate with his cock because he’s well-practice at it now, and Sebastian really didn’t think he’d be able to orgasm again, he assumed this one would be about Chris, but the press of him against that spot inside has Sebastian’s skin prickling and his stomach clenching and blood rushing back between his legs.  
   
“Sometimes I can’t even think straight, when it’s been too long since I’ve kissed you,” Chris says, between bruising kisses. “Never knew it could feel like this, Seb. Never fucking knew I could want somebody the way I want you.”  
   
“Harder,” Sebastian begs, and he  _is_ begging, and doesn’t care. He wraps his legs around Chris’s waist, urging him on, feeling crazy with need and want and barely recognizing the sound of his own voice as he pleads, “c’mon, more.”  
   
Chris grins at him, taking the challenge and pounding into him. Sebastian yells and struggles to breathe and holds on, the pace unrelenting and the sparks igniting inside him again and Sebastian can’t believe he’s going to come again but he is if Chris keeps that up. Chris doesn’t stop, he just pushes forward like he’s trying to crawl into Sebastian’s skin, leaning down to bite at Sebastian’s neck. Chris tips over the edge first, moaning beautifully in Sebastian’s ear, and the feeling of it flooding him, wet and warm, sends Sebastian over after him. He spasms and his cock feebly spills out the few drops that were left inside him and he grips Chris’s back.  
   
“Fuck,” Chris gasps, tongue licking over where he’d bitten Sebastian’s neck, soothing the sting.  
   
“Chris.” Sebastian doesn’t have a follow-up. He just babbles Chris’s name, feeling beyond intoxicated, dizzy and empty and twitching again as the tremors fire along his nerve endings. Chris shifts his hips and he moves around inside Sebastian, and they inhale in unison at the feeling.  
   
For a moment, Chris stills, and kisses his neck while Sebastian’s fingers play in the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. Then Chris draws his hips out and slams them back in forcefully, and Sebastian isn’t expecting it. Chris is still hard inside him, the slide even slipperier now with the addition of his own natural lubricant, as he starts fucking Sebastian again.  
   
Sebastian says his name again, his brain turned to mush so he can’t find any other words.  
   
“We’ll start slow,” Chris murmurs to him. He dips his tongue into Sebastian’s mouth and, true to his word, slows the pace a little, rocking lazily into Sebastian’s used, over-sensitive body. It’s way too much, it feels like he’s going to burst into flames, and he wants it to stop at the same time as he wants it to carry on forever.  
   
“Are you fucking crazy,” Sebastian moans, finally locating some helpful language.  
   
“You can give me one more,” Chris says, his voice so low and wrecked and gravelly.  
   
Sebastian cries out as Chris snaps his hips, finding his over-worked prostate again and nailing it. His whole body feels like it's burning up, thrumming chaotically with sensations too intense to facilitate coherent thought.  
   
“Fifteen minutes until it’s next year.” Chris drags his teeth along Sebastian’s jaw and increases the pace of his thrusts back to brutal and ferocious and all-consuming. “I know you got one more in you. You’re so fucking beautiful when you come, when you’re lost in it, falling apart because of me, letting me hold you together. Let me see it one more time, okay?”  
   
“Can’t,” Sebastian nearly sobs, as his body tries to get on board anyway, his cock trying to be interested again, the way Chris is pounding into him amazing and awful and hot and cold.  
   
“Shh, relax,” Chris whispers, soothing even as he doesn’t let up. “Relax, let it happen. It’s gonna feel so good. Just one more, baby, I know you can do it.”  
   
It’s quieter than the others, when Sebastian falls over that edge one last time. He barely makes a sound, barely moves, just lets it softly explode through him and then floats on it. He’s on a different plane of existence, suddenly, everything smooth and dull and blurry. Chris finishes with a soft grunt and a breathy laugh, happy like he always is at the end. He carefully pulls out and falls over onto the bed beside Sebastian. His release slowly oozes out of Sebastian, and he doesn’t hate that at all; it makes him feel owned and claimed and high on the endless spinning of endorphins and the pleasant thrumming of aftershocks. He realizes after a moment he’s shaking and he can’t really feel his legs. His hands tremble uncontrollably as he brings them up to cover his face, because the ceiling is rotating above him and he can’t make it stop.   
   
Next to him, Chris laughs again, soft and breathless. “C’mere,” he slurs, one hand feeling for Sebastian.  
  
“You come here,” Sebastian argues weakly. “My limbs don’t work and it’s your fault.”  
  
Chris grumbles about it but manages to heave himself up enough to flop over and land heavily on Sebastian’s chest. “That was fun.”  
  
Sebastian can hear the blush on Chris’s face even though he can’t see it, and it’s sweetly in contrast to everything they just did and so very Chris, to wring four full orgasms out of Sebastian and then be bashful about talking about it. Sebastian tries to lifts his arms but they’re lead-heavy and he can’t. Like the orgasm is still slowly running through him, jolts of electricity pass over his skin. He’s hot inside and cold on the outside and he feels helpless, and stripped bare, and Chris notices. He notices that Sebastian doesn’t respond, looks up and sees him floundering, and swears softly to himself. He gets the sheets and bedspread out from underneath them, tugging them from where they’re trapped under Sebastian’s body, and drags them up to Sebastian’s waist. He’s gone for just a moment, and the room darkens as the shades are drawn, and then he’s back, pulling Sebastian into his arms and holding him close, tight enough to be safe and soft enough to be soothing.  
   
“Doin’ okay?” he asks sweetly, kissing Sebastian’s hair and rubbing his back. “Need anything?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head and lets Chris’s warmth bring him back to life a little.  
   
“Did I break you?” Chris asks, having the wherewithal to sound the smallest amount of apologetic, but still not able to keep the smug smile off his face.  
   
“A little bit, yeah,” Sebastian answers. Chris chuckles warmly. His fingers move, up Sebastian’s spine, down his arm, around to the small of his back. “If you still wanna go to the Statue of Liberty tomorrow, you might have to carry me.”  
   
“I can do that.” Chris brings his hand up to Sebastian’s face so he can kiss him. Outside, there’s a faint roar in the distance of a cheering crowd, which must mean it’s midnight. “Happy New Year, baby,” Chris whispers to him.  
   
*           *           *


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is now officially the longest story I've ever written. anyone who's still reading and commenting is an mvp and i love every one of you, thank you so much for caring about these characters.

It’s disastrously cold in January, so other than going to work, Sebastian decides he isn’t spending one more minute outside than is absolutely necessary. He’s grumpy and disgruntled every time Chris sees him outdoors, swearing emphatically when he first opens the door in the morning and is hit square in the face with a blast of frigid air. Chris keeps reminding him to get a warmer coat. Sebastian’s thigh-length wool coat is black and tailored and looks incredible on him, showing off the long lines of his body. He pairs it with a cashmere scarf and leather gloves that Chris thinks are Hugo Boss, and he looks devastating, like a model, but it isn’t anywhere near warm enough. Sebastian rolls his eyes and always responds that he would love Chris even if he didn’t own a single item of clothing that wasn’t from Walmart, but that he personally would never be caught dead in a ski jacket. Chris shrugs and is very comfortable in snowstorms in his blue Canada Goose arctic coat, and tells Sebastian he’s on his own and Chris won’t snuggle him to keep him warm. He usually lasts at least a minute or two before he caves and pulls Sebastian in close, and Sebastian is gracious enough to mostly keep from being smug about it.  
   
Hayley and Anthony are coming over for dinner on the first Saturday after the break. Some kind of traditional Romanian stew is simmering on a pot on the stove. Sebastian got the recipe from his Mom when they were in New York. Chris has noticed a slight change in him, since that visit. Sebastian has been talking about his childhood a little, and showing Chris pictures that his Mom sent, and spent the morning chopping vegetables and assembling them into a dish that he remembered his grandmother making. Chris knows he’d been talking with his Mom about the city where they lived, that afternoon in Manhattan. Sebastian had promised to fill Chris in later, but hadn’t, and Chris hasn’t asked. He figures Sebastian will come to him when he’s ready. It’s still nice, to see him hiding from his past a little bit less than he was when Chris met him.  
   
Sebastian is dusting in the living room, wiping a cloth over his coffee table and diligently through the exposed wood on his bookshelf. A record is spinning on the turntable in the corner, slow, easy acoustic guitar and two male voices singing in a language Chris doesn’t recognize, but assumes is Sebastian’s first. He just watches for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, as Sebastian polishes the spines of a few books, gently swaying and singing along in a low, quiet voice. Chris thinks he’s probably the human embodiment of the emoji with the hearts for eyes by the time Sebastian feels him staring and turns around.  
   
“You could help, instead of ogling my ass,” Sebastian comments.  
   
“Dusting instead of staring at your ass and thinkin’ about all the things I’d like to do to it?” Chris pretends to think about it just for a second. He walks further into the room and pulls Sebastian into his arms. Riot curls around their ankles, meowing at them.  
   
Sebastian smiles at him, and it’s blinding.  
   
“What’s this song about?” Chris asks, holding Sebastian around the waist and swaying with him.  
   
“The same thing almost every song is about.”  
   
“Love?”  
   
“Mhm.” Sebastian kisses his jaw and hums along with the melody, quietly singing a line into Chris’s cheek as they move together. The language is gorgeous in his smooth, low voice. Chris loved it from their very first date, when he’d run through a stop sign because he’d been so enchanted by this man. He’s resisted asking Sebastian to speak to him in Romanian again, because he knows there’s trauma attached to it, but he’d be over the moon if Sebastian started to do it willingly.  
   
“What did that mean?”  
   
“Something like … following the light, living together among the stars. Hard to directly translate.”  
   
“What’s ‘I love you’?”  
   
“Te iubesc,” Sebastian answers, and then kisses Chris’s lips and repeats it, saying it to Chris instead of just answering his question. “Te iubesc. Now quit distracting me, they’ll be here in an hour.”  
   
He extracts himself from Chris’s arms but Chris chases him, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s middle from behind and kissing his neck.  
   
Sebastian chuckles. “C’mon, I mean it.”  
   
“I don’t think they’re going to unfriend you if there’s a little dust on the bookshelf.”  
   
“No, but they might if they show up and we’re not wearing pants. Which I’m aware is what you’re gunning for.” Sebastian pushes Chris off him gently. “Go get the broom, there’s cat hair everywhere.”  
   
Begrudgingly, Chris listens to him. He gets the broom from the cupboard in the hallway, and sweeps the hardwood floor, sending fur and dust into a pile in the corner. Sebastian keeps singing under his breath, and Chris’s resolve lasts a very embarrassingly short time before he’s taking Sebastian by the hips again and kissing him. Sebastian laughs into it, and doesn’t resist it this time. He lets Chris pull him down onto the couch, the dusting cloth forgotten on the floor.  
   
The second weekend in January they visit Chris’s family again. It was Sebastian who requested it. Chris thought his heart might rupture over the knowledge that Sebastian wanted to spend another weekend with  his family, so soon after the last one. He falls asleep once again with Sebastian on his chest in his old Batman sheets, thinking about all kinds of things it’s still too soon to voice out loud; about being with him forever, about all the things they could do together in five years, or ten years, or thirty years. On Sunday morning, Sebastian finally yields his desire to be fashionable and borrows a proper, unstylish but warm jacket from Chris and a pair of thermal gloves, and goes out into the backyard with Chris’s nephews for a snowball fight. The two of them gang up on him, pelting him with snow and climbing all over him. Sebastian picks Miles up and spins him around, and then tosses him into a snowbank. Miles is covered, disappearing completely under the snow, and he pops up laughing. He runs at Sebastian, jumping back into his arms and demanding Sebastian do it again.  
   
Chris watches with his heart beating a little faster than normal, through the glass door in the kitchen, leaned against the frame of it. The third time Miles runs back towards Sebastian, he knocks him right over, sending the three of them tumbling into the snow. He can hear their laughter through the glass. Sebastian’s cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright and he’s never looked less polished and put together, and Chris has maybe never loved him as much as he does at this moment.  
   
Lisa comes up behind him, rubbing her hand between his shoulder blades. He gets his arms around her and she leans against him and watches as well, as Sebastian and the boys start making snow angels. She squeezes his forearm, and says, “I think you should keep him.”  
   
“Planning on it,” Chris answers. He’s warm inside, like his organs have melted into chocolate syrup, and he knows his voice is pinched. His throat is tight.  
   
Lisa notices and looks up at him, and her hand coming up to cup his cheek has tears springing to Chris’s eyes that he blinks away.  
   
He shrugs and laughs it off, joking, “maybe it’s man PMS.”  
   
He’s led over to the table, and she sits next to him and holds his hand. “Do you know, I never really realized how unhappy you were. I should have, I’m sorry I didn’t. Sometimes when things happen slowly, you don’t notice them until something changes. The way you’ve been the last few months, it’s so obvious now how much you were suffering before.”  
   
“I don’t think I really realized, either. Like boiling a frog. You just get used to how things are.”  
   
She nods. “You were different, for a while. Quieter and more serious and not that optimistic, bright-eyed little boy I loved so much. I think he’s back, now.”  
   
Chris nods, and manages to smile. “I always wanted … something like what you have with Dad. What Carly and Shanna have. I think I’d almost given up on it.”  
   
“You have it now?”  
   
He nods again.  
   
“Hold onto it tight, then. Don’t let it go.”  
   
“I won’t.”  
   
The door slides open, and Chris’s nephews burst inside, shouting as they run through the kitchen toward the basement door, leaving wet footprints behind them. Sebastian closes the door behind himself, and pulls the knitted hat off his head, sending snow falling to the floor around him. He notices Chris looking a little unsteady, and frowns in question, but Chris shakes his head.  
   
“Just sittin’ here getting emotional about how much I love you,” he jokes, with a shrug.  
   
Sebastian smiles at him and shakes his head, nearly in disbelief, and he takes the hand Chris holds out and lets Chris pull him down into his lap.  
   
“You big sap,” Sebastian teases affectionately, pressing his cold lips to Chris’s cheek.  
   
Out of the corner of his field of vision, Chris definitely catches Lisa wiping her eyes.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“I gave you the number for the vet?” Chris asks, for what he knows is about the fourth time. “And the 24-hour place, in case something happens in the middle of the night?”  
   
“You did,” Sebastian confirms. He doesn’t point out that Chris is being overbearing. He just nods and smiles, patient and sweet. “I’ve got everything I need. We’re going to be just fine. Other than missing you.”  
   
Chris swallows, and checks the list of numbers he’d written out anyway, just in case he’s missed something the last six times he checked it. Sebastian moves in beside him, sliding his hand up under Chris’s sweater and rubbing his lower back, wordlessly being there with him as Chris tries to mediate the anxiety that’s been creeping up in his chest all day.  
   
“Sorry,” he mumbles, putting the list down. “I’m know I’m being …”  
   
“Don’t be sorry.” Sebastian’s arms go around his middle, and his chin comes to rest on Chris’s shoulder. “Everything’s okay.”  
   
“I gave you a key?”  
   
“You gave me a key over a month ago,” Sebastian reminds him gently. “I haven’t thrown it out.”  
   
“Right. Sorry.”  
   
“Chris.”  
   
Chris looks at him, and finds Sebastian’s face too kind, too understanding, too empathetic. He hunches down to push his face into Sebastian’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to look at him.  
   
“You’re good,” Sebastian says softly. He keeps rubbing Chris’s back. “Do what you need, alright? If it calms you down to go over everything again, do it.”  
   
Chris shakes his head, and admits what he knows is the truth, even though he wishes it weren’t. “I don’t know how much it really helps. I just want it to.”  
   
He’d been asked to speak months ago at a conference at McGill. He’s been on edge about it ever since, the nerves slowly building as the date had crept closer and closer, and now he’ll need to leave for the airport in less than an hour and he’s trying desperately to quell the panic he can feel building inside him. He stresses enough about public speaking of any kind, and this has the added pressure of the fact that he hasn’t been back to Montreal since he graduated, and he knows a big deal will be made out of the fact that he’s a former student, especially since he’s teaching in the Ivy League now. Three times over the last few months, Chris has seriously considered calling the organizers and backing out. He’d written the email, once, and let his finger hover over the send button for a few seconds before changing his mind and deleting it. He  _wants_  to be able to tackle things like this. It’s part of his job, the career field that he’d chosen knowing full well it would be something he’d have to do, and he’s consistently annoyed with himself that he’s a grown man and he panics at the idea of standing in front of a room full of people attempting to string a sentence together.   
   
He always fumbles his words, and forgets the things he’d wanted to say, and ends up sounding like an idiot who someone managed to con a university into giving him a degree he didn’t really deserve. The sheer number of times he’s done something like this should have desensitized him to it by now, but instead it seems to just be worse every time. The last time he’d given a public lecture, Sebastian had been there. Chris can’t ever remember a speech going as well as that one did, and he attributes it completely to Sebastian’s presence. Chris had stood on a stage knowing that at least one person in the audience loved him and supported him and would still love him even if he messed up. It should have helped, going forward. It should have proven to him that he  _can_ do this, and should have lessened the anxiety for the next time. It didn’t. It just compounded Chris’s worries, led to the irrational parts of his brain deciding that he wouldn’t be able to do it again  _without_  Sebastian there, like a security blanket, except pitiful because Chris isn’t a toddler. And Sebastian can’t be there this time.  
   
“I’ve got keys,” Sebastian is saying into Chris’s hair, sweetly trying to help him run over everything, to confirm that he has nothing to worry about. “I’ve got the vet’s number, and I know where the emergency place is, and I’ve got your Mom’s number and Scott’s number. I know where the fire extinguisher is and how to check if the carbon monoxide detector is working properly. I have the number for your hotel. You showed me how to do the Heimlich on a dog in case he eats something dumb and is choking.”  
   
“How many times did I show you that?” Chris asks weakly, betting it was at least a dozen over the last few weeks.  
   
“Doesn’t matter.” Sebastian kisses his ear. “I know it really well, now. That’s not a bad thing.”  
   
Chris exhales. He stands up straight, but Sebastian doesn’t let him move away. He keeps one arm wrapped around Chris’s back, and brings the other hand up to his face.   
   
“You’ve got your laptop, you’ve got your notes printed as a backup, you’ve got three sticks with the PowerPoint on them.”  
   
Chris swears. “I should make sure I packed those.”  
   
“You did, sweetheart. I watched you do it.” Sebastian licks his lips and brushes Chris’s cheek. “But go check, if you need to.”  
   
Chris blows out another breath, frustrated this time.  
   
“Listen to me,” Sebastian says, kissing Chris on the lips before he continues. “Everybody has their shit. This is a thing that’s hard for you. That’s okay. Don’t make it worse by beating yourself up about it. If making sure you’ve got those sticks is gonna help you be a little less anxious, go do it.”  
   
He does check, and of course he already had them, but knowing it for sure does lessen the uneasy feeling in his chest, even if only for a few minutes. Sebastian has been helping Chris for weeks, reading his lecture over and helping him edit it, letting him practice it in his living room, giving him feedback on things to improve. He’s been so sweet and encouraging, assisting in crafting what Chris thinks will be a pretty interesting address if he’s able to get through it without messing it all up. And he’s listened patiently as Chris fret over al the things that might go wrong, gently soothing him and promising him nothing will go wrong. Chris had been calming down about it. He’d been almost confident, just a few days ago. Now that the day is almost here, he’s back to dreading it.  
   
Chris drives himself to the airport, because Sebastian will be in class on Monday morning when he returns and wouldn’t be able to pick him up. He hugs Sebastian goodbye way too tightly, in his driveway, but Sebastian just squeezes him back and murmurs a few more words of encouragement into his ear. Chris drives away thinking he is wholly undeserving of Sebastian, but glad he has him anyway.   
   
He pulls out his laptop on the plane and reads his notes over for what must be the thousandth time, trying to prove to himself that he knows the material and he has no reason to be worried he’ll get up onto a stage and forget his entire body of research. It’s an entirely irrational, unfounded fear. But his fears have never been based in reality. They’re always about the what-ifs. He really wishes it were Sebastian in the seat next to him, instead of an elderly man who’s been snoring for the majority of the flight.  
   
There is a text from Sebastian on his phone when the plane lands and Chris can check it.  _Love you, you’ll be brilliant, call me when you get to the hotel. We’re cheering you on from here._ It’s followed by a series of colorful heart emojis and a selfie of Sebastian and Dodger, in Chris’s kitchen. Chris looks at it for a long time, and finds a bit of serenity in it while he’s waiting in the line to go through Canadian customs. Montreal is as beautiful as he remembers, especially covered in snow. Under different circumstances, he’d be happier to be back. He should come here with Sebastian at a later date, maybe over the summer. Stay with him in the St. Paul hotel in the old part of downtown, tour him around the 400 year old European style city where he’d lived for much of his 20s. This time Chris is staying close to the university, in a modern high-rise with a view of the city lights.   
   
He does phone Sebastian, once he’s settled in his room.  
   
“I miss you already,” Sebastian says, both joking and not, instead of  _hello_ when he answers the phone. “How was the flight?”  
   
“Fine. Uneventful. How’s Dodger?”  
   
“Passed out next to his food dish. As usual for 7pm on a Friday.”  
   
Chris nods. “That’s good.”  
   
“How are you?” Sebastian asks, his voice going gentle.  
   
“I’m okay.”  
   
“Chris.”  
   
Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Chris admits, “I can’t. I gotta … go over stuff again, and figure out where I’m supposed to go tomorrow, and … I just can’t get into it right now. Sorry.”  
   
Dwelling on something he can’t change doesn’t help, it will just psych him out even more when he’s trying his best to not let his anxiety get the better of him. He knows it won’t be as bad as he’s imagining. Nothing ever is.  
   
“Okay,” Sebastian says, understanding. “I know you’re gonna be amazing.”  
   
Chris almost tells Sebastian he wishes he could be here, but he doesn’t. Sebastian can’t be here, so there’s no sense in making him feel guilty about it. They say goodnight, and Chris has a hard time ending the call even after Sebastian has hung up.  
   
He takes a shower, lingers in the stall under scalding water for a while, letting the heat and the steam relax him. His reflection in the foggy mirror when he gets out is uncomfortable to look at. Normally Chris is relatively neutral about the way he looks. He isn’t bursting with as much confidence as he tries to pretend, but he isn’t insecure about his appearance either. It just is what it is. Tonight, he doesn’t like what he sees. His hair is too long right now, and he should probably shave. Sebastian likes him with a beard, is the only reason he doesn’t. Sebastian likes the feeling of it against his face as they kiss, likes rubbing his thumbs through it, likes the way it scratches and brings blood up to the surface underneath the skin on the insides of his thighs, when Chris has his mouth other places. He’d give anything, in this moment, to have Sebastian here with him. Chris could use his hand held and his shoulders rubbed and soothing words of reassurance pressed lovingly into his hair. He should have asked Sebastian to come with him. But that would have been such a ridiculous request, Chris would never have let himself live it down. It’s ridiculous enough that he’s a grown man sitting in a hotel room wishing his boyfriend was here holding his hand because doing his job is too much for Chris to handle sometimes. He hates how fragile he feels right now.  
   
He doesn’t sleep well. He half considers finding a late-night liquor store and downing a six-pack to put him to sleep, because if he’s exhausted tomorrow, everything will be harder. Being hungover, though, would be even worse than tired, so he doesn’t. He lies awake, wanting to phone his boyfriend even though it’s 3am, wanting to give up and go back home, wanting to strangle himself for being such a baby.   
   
Miraculously, in the morning, even though he’s tired, he does feel better. He goes over his notes one last time over coffee, and knows them nearly by heart at this point. Sebastian sends another selfie, a shot of him and Dodger cuddled up in Chris’s bed, and Chris smiles at it and makes it the background on his phone. He texts Sebastian good morning, and some cheesy words about love, and Sebastian answers them back in Romanian. He’s worked out that Chris really likes it when he does that. Chris knows they’re with him, even when he’s far away, and he can absolutely do this. He’s well rehearsed, he’s an expert in his field, he’s qualified and capable and as he puts on a suit – the fitted navy one that Sebastian likes best on him – Chris is nearly bursting with sudden confidence. He feels like he could run a marathon or lift a car.  
   
There’s no reason for it to all fall apart. It just does. Chris doesn’t see it coming. He has his bag over his shoulder, and his hand on the doorknob. His inner monologue goes right from  _you got this_ to  _no you don’t_ , and suddenly Chris can’t open the door. He tries. His hand doesn’t listen to the command his brain sends to it. He just stands there, motionless, with ridiculous nightmare scenarios spinning like a carousel out of control through his mind. Completely forgetting everything he was going to say. Getting flustered and accidentally saying something offensive. Having to deal with someone making a negative comment about his relationship with Sebastian. Being asked a question during the discussion panel that he should know the answer to but doesn’t and making a complete fool of himself.   
   
His hand falls off the door handle, and he takes a few steps back, suddenly unable to breathe. His tie is too tight so he loosens it, but it doesn’t help, he still can’t take in a deep enough breath to satisfy his aching lungs. His heart races, far too fast, pounding under his skin and behind his ribcage. His hands are cold, and his vision is blurry, and he’s dizzy enough to stumble back towards the bed and ends up on the floor. His chest  _hurts_ , maybe he’s having a heart attack, or a stroke, or some other life-threatening medical emergency, and he can’t die in a hotel room in Montreal without telling Sebastian he loves him one last time. He digs in his pocket for his phone, chest heaving and hands shaking so uncontrollably his fingers keep slipping as he tries to get a grip on it. His thumb accidentally holds the button down, and Siri pleasantly asks what she can help him with, and Chris can’t remember how to make her go away and get back to the home screen. Once he does, the picture of Sebastian and Dodger greets him, and the squeezing in Chris’s chest intensifies.  
   
Sebastian answers on the first ring, sounding confused because Chris should be on his way to the university right now, and his voice breaks Chris down even more.  
   
He should be able to do this. It’s ridiculous, pathetic, completely laughably absurd that he’s sitting on the floor of a hotel room in a full panic over giving a  _speech_. If anyone else knew, they would laugh at him. They’d pity him, they’d talk to each other under their breath about what a shame it is, what a waste of his intelligence, that he can craft a seminal argument in written form but can’t open his mouth in public without sounding stupid.  
   
“Chris?” Sebastian asks, sounding a little panicked himself, when Chris doesn’t say anything, just wheezes into the speaker. He’s still struggling for air. “Chris, what’s happening, are you hurt?”  
   
“Can’t breathe,” Chris gasps.  
   
“What? Why not, what’s – where are you?”  
   
“Hotel.” Chris brings his free hand up to his face, and realizes there are tears on his cheeks.  
   
“Are you choking on something?” Sebastian asks sharply. “Call an ambulance, or go for help!”  
   
Chris shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m not … I can’t go. What if I fuck it up?”  
   
For another moment Sebastian sputters in confusion, but then he seems to understand. “You’re … you’re not hurt? Are you having a panic attack?”  
   
“I don’t know,” Chris admits. He rubs his chest. “Feels like I’m fucking dying.”  
   
“Okay.” Sebastian’s voice lowers, goes softer and calmer, trying to soothe. “Okay, just. Try to breathe for me. Close your eyes, don’t think about anything else, just focus on my voice. Deep breaths.”  
   
“I can’t go,” Chris repeats.  
   
“So don’t go. That doesn’t matter. I just need you to breathe. Everything’s gonna be okay, Chris, just concentrate on breathing.”  
   
“They’re expecting me.”  
   
“I don’t give a fuck about them,  _breathe_ ,” Sebastian instructs, a little harsher. “Come on, in and out. You can do that for me, right?”  
   
Chris nods again and tries. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries, and Sebastian talks him through it, his voice soft and calming and Chris anchors himself to it until his heartbeat slows a little and the vice grip in his chest loosens. It’s a moment of relief, and then reality sets in, and Chris drops the phone to the floor and crumbles, wrapping his arms around his knees and pushing his face against his forearms, trying desperately not to cry. He can hear Sebastian shouting over the phone where it’s lying on the carpet next to his hip, calling his name and sounding terrified. Chris picks it up, because even in the middle of the worst anxiety attack of his life, he can’t leave Sebastian hanging like that.  
   
“I’m okay,” he says into the phone, picking it back up and holding it up to his ear again. He isn’t okay, but he doesn’t know what else to say.  
   
“What …” Sebastian’s voice shakes. “What do you want to do? Do you want me to come get you?”  
   
“I’m in a different country,” Chris croaks. “You can’t come get me.”  
   
“Come home, then.”  
   
“I can’t, they’re expecting me,” Chris says again. The room isn’t spinning so fast anymore but his head still hurts from gasping for air.  
   
Sebastian is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is soft and he sounds distressed, and Chris hates every cell in his body for being someone who just made the person he loves sound like that. “I can’t tell you what to do. If you still wanna go …”  
   
Chris shakes his head and clenches his jaw hard enough to hurt. It’s the last thing he wants. He doesn’t even think he physically could. If he tried to get up right now and make his way over to the campus, he thinks his legs would give out from under him. “I don’t.”  
   
“Then don’t. Come home.”  
   
“I … I gotta tell them, I … they’re gonna be so mad at me.”  
   
“No, they won’t,” Sebastian says firmly. “Don’t worry about any of that. Let me take care of that, alright? I’ll call the number you left me, I’ll tell them you’re sick or you have a family emergency and you have to leave. They’ll understand, things like that happen all the time. Just get to the airport. Get on the next flight back. I’ll handle everything else, okay?”  
   
Chris nods and agrees. He shouldn’t  _need_ Sebastian to handle everything else, but he does, and he isn’t strong enough to turn it down when it’s being offered to him.  
   
It takes most of the rest of the day to get back to Connecticut. He manages to pack up his things and call a cab without breaking down again, shifting into an emotionless sort of auto-pilot because now he has a task to accomplish so he can focus on that instead of everything else. There aren’t any direct flights until the next day, so he flies to Toronto, and sits at a gate for almost three hours between connecting flights. He’s numb to everything, barely noticing when a woman with two kids in tow crashes right into him. He probably looks insane; red eyes and a blank expression, still in his three-piece suit because he hadn’t bothered changing.  
   
On the second flight, the tears come again. The people in the seats on either side of him give him nervous, wary looks, and the woman to his left asks if he’s okay, and a few minutes later a flight attendant comes over and helps him move to an empty seat in first class so at least he can cry without being practically in a stranger’s lap as he does it. He gets so many sympathetic looks from other members of the flight crew as they pass him up and down the aisle, by the time they land Chris has barely resisted screaming at them to leave him alone.  
   
As everything cycles around in his mind, Chris remembers how happy he’d been with Sebastian in New York; how happy he’d been with him in Boston just the week before. How happy he’s been for months. He knows he did this to himself, building this conference up slowly in the back of his mind over the last few months, to the point that he’d created an insurmountable peak out of it before it even happened. He used to do that all the time, but has been so much better, lately. Being with Sebastian has made him brave, has quieted the negative voices in his head that have taunted him for his whole life, has made him feel free in a way he’s not sure he’s ever felt. He’s been so high up, soaring so easily on how perfect his life has felt these last four months, and it’s suddenly all crashing down, and he has such a long way to fall this time.  
   
He feels shattered inside, by the time he gets his bags and pays for parking in the lot where he’d left his truck and drives back to his house. Broken down and embarrassed and like he’d be happy if the ground underneath him opened up and swallowed him whole so he never has to face another human being again. Sebastian isn’t going to want this, anymore. What kind of person would want to be with someone who calls them sobbing from a hotel in another country because they’re too scared to do something that everyone else in their profession does all the time. He’s convinced it’s over before he even pulls into the driveway, finding Sebastian sitting outside on the front steps, waiting for him.  
   
The last time Chris had come home to find Sebastian on his front porch, he was returning from Boston, from the weekend he’d told his family about the man he’d fallen in love with. It feels, horribly but fittingly, like book-ends. Chris has always felt like that was the moment their relationship solidified itself as something really real, something that could withstand anything and maybe even last forever. There’s tragic poetry in it, if this same spot is also where it ends.  
   
Sebastian stands up, as Chris gets out of his car. Chris notices Sebastian has borrowed one of his jackets, again; the red Columbia one with the fur-lined hood. Chris didn’t need to be greeted by the sight of Sebastian in his clothes, along with everything else.  
   
He walks around his truck but then stops next to the passenger’s side door, and they stare at each other with a few yards between them.  
   
“Hey,” Sebastian says softly, with his brow furrowed and a look of heartbreak in his eyes.  
   
“Can you just … do it here?” Chris asks. His voice is raw and his head aches, and he wants it ripped off like a Band-Aid.  
   
Sebastian’s frown deepens. “Do what?”  
   
Chris leans back against his truck and crosses his arms protectively over his chest. “If you’re gonna break up with me, do it out here, okay? Please. I don’t think I can go back inside with you just to watch you leave.”  
   
Sebastian’s lips part and he stares. His own voice is weak and raspy as he asks, “you think I’m leaving?”  
   
His legs start to give out again, and Chris feels himself sliding down his truck toward the ground. Sebastian jogs over and catches him before he falls completely, hauling him back up to his feet and wrapping strong arms around him.   
   
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sebastian says, terse and harsh and angry, into Chris’s ear. “Come inside.”  
   
Chris wishes he were strong enough to fight back, but he isn’t. He lets Sebastian take him in, and help him get his coat and his shoes off, guiding him with hands that are gentle but sure, and Chris wants so much to believe him. To believe that they’ll get through this, that he didn’t destroy everything they’ve built together.  
   
“Tell me what you need,” Sebastian says, holding Chris’s cheeks in his hands.  
   
“Fuck me. Please.”  
   
“Chris,” Sebastian sighs.  
   
“Please,” Chris whispers. He knows he’s begging. He knows he’s pathetic. He can’t stop either. “Please, Sebastian, fuck me.”  
   
“Not when you’re this upset,” Sebastian whispers back. His fingers brush Chris’s hair. “I can’t have it mean that.”  
   
“It’s not … I just need you, okay? Please, I know it’s not fair. I need you.”  
   
Sebastian kisses his cheek. “Need me to what?”  
   
“I told you.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “No, sweetheart. Tell me why.”  
   
“Why what?” Chris asks, edging on desperate. Panic is rising in his throat again. Sebastian has never turned him down before. He’d promised Chris, just minutes ago, that they weren’t breaking up, and now it feels again like they are.  
   
“Why you want it right now.”  
   
Chris stares at him, shaking his head, not understanding.  
   
“You think it would prove something? I love you,” Sebastian murmurs to him, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “So much. I know you’re upset, and I’m so, so sad that you’re this upset, but you and me … Chris, it has to be the one thing you can still count on, even when everything else is crumbling. Me saying I still love you has to be enough for you to believe it. Because if it isn’t, we’ve got much bigger problems. I can’t fuck you because you think it’ll prove I’m not about to leave you. I can’t have it mean that. It can’t be an insurance policy.”  
   
Chris folds in his arms, feels like his muscles don’t work anymore and melts into Sebastian’s chest; sturdy arms around him the only thing keeping him from falling right to the floor. Sebastian pulls him down onto the couch, gets Chris in his lap and holds him there, steady against him as Chris breaks apart.  
   
*           *           *


	22. Chapter 22

Sebastian wakes up sweating. He’s overheated to the point of discomfort, sticky and his skin itchy because of it. It takes a few sleepy blinks to locate the source; Chris pressed against him, limbs draped over him, head nestled into the space between Sebastian’s shoulder and his ear. He’s heavy and warm and he’s still asleep, a dead weight on the entire left side of Sebastian’s body. In an instant, Sebastian stops caring about being too hot. He slides his hand up the arm Chris has wrapped possessively over his stomach, squeezing Chris’s bicep and then leaving his fingers curled around the wide muscle. He pushes his nose into Chris’s hair, inhaling clean sweat and the mellow scent of morning skin, and stays, melded nearly into one with the person he loves more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything in his life, not wanting to move for anything in the world even if means he’s going to need a shower as soon as they finally get up. Maybe one with Chris. It’s Sunday, they have lots of time for things like washing each other’s hair while they lazily kiss under the warm stream of water.  
   
He doesn’t know what to expect when Chris wakes up, and it’s the other reason Sebastian lies as still as he can to prevent it from happening for as long as possible. He’d tried, the night before, to gently coax Chris into talking about what happened, but Chris had been so upset, and then had suddenly gone despondent, as if a switch had flipped and the person in Sebastian’s lap on the couch wasn’t the same person who’d called him sobbing from a hotel room 12 hours before. He hadn’t been  _Chris_ anymore. Sebastian’s seem him sad, and angry, and anxious, and indignant, but he’s never seen Chris that  _blank_  before. It was far scarier than anything Sebastian has ever experienced with him. Chris’s emotions are enormous, and uncontainable, and sometimes that’s good and sometimes it isn’t but they’re always  _there_. Seeing him robotic and empty was so much worse than seeing him crying and convinced Sebastian was about to break up with him and then begging Sebastian to physically prove he wasn’t. Sebastian wanted to help but didn’t have any clue how to do it, so instead he’d pulled Chris’s near lifeless form up the stairs and wrapped him in a cocoon of blankets and fallen asleep next to him. His only course of action now is to hope things have improved when Chris wakes up. Sebastian would give anything to be able to fix this, but he doesn’t even know where to begin.  
   
Eventually his bladder overrides his intention of staying where he is until Chris wakes up. Sebastian tries to ignore it for as long as he can, really not wanting to stop Chris from catching up on clearly needed sleep, but then he can’t anymore. He nudges Chris gently, pushing his mouth into Chris’s forehead and lightly squeezing his arm again, trying to softly pull him back to consciousness. Chris stirs, and makes a sleepy noise, but Sebastian has to keep jostling him for another few seconds before he wakes up.  
   
“I gotta take a leak, I’m sorry. Stay here, okay, I’ll be right back.”  
   
“Mhm.” Chris hums, still not fully with it. He lets Sebastian push his limbs away and climb out of bed, but rolls forward as soon as Sebastian is gone to cuddle into the warmth he’d left on the mattress. He looks so young, when his eyes are closed and his face is relaxed and pushed into a pillow. If it weren’t for the beard he’d look 20, and Sebastian really wishes he knew Chris back then. He knows without even having evidence of it that Chris would have been excitable and dorky and maybe a little impulsive but incredibly sweet. They would have run in very different circles despite being in the same faculty, if they’d gone to school together, but Sebastian likes to think they would have been friends. He likes to think Chris would have been one of those guys who made it in with the popular kids and the outcasts, because he cared more about what was inside than whether someone was in possession of whatever arbitrary thing made people cool that month.  
   
Sebastian leans over and kisses Chris’s hair, repeating, “right back” before he goes over to the bathroom.  
   
He starts every morning out with washing his face and brushing his teeth, almost without fail, and because it’s his routine he normally doesn’t quite feel human until he completes it. Today, he skips it, at least for now, because he wants to get back to Chris as quickly as he can. He relieves himself and flushes the toilet, briefly running water over his hands and shaking them dry, and then going for the door. Unexpectedly, he finds Chris on the other side of it. His hair is messy and there are red lines on his cheek from the pillow.  
   
He gives Sebastian a slight grimace, and says, “me too” as he goes past Sebastian into the bathroom. He doesn’t bother closing the door, just stands over the toilet and pees and Sebastian goes back to the bed to wait for him, unsure of whether he should get back in. He can’t decide, so he sits on the edge of it instead.  
   
Chris looks at him just briefly as he comes back out. For a second his lips part, like he’s about to say something, and then he changes his mind and looks away. “Gotta let Dodger out.”  
   
Dodger hears his name and jumps up from his doggie bed in the corner, trotting over to the door.  
   
“Hey.” Sebastian gets up and goes over, takes Chris’s wrist in his hand to stop him from leaving the room. Chris looks back at him, eyebrows gathered together and from this close Sebastian can see the lingering pain in his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised, and he isn’t, but it’s still hard to look at. He wraps an arm around Chris’s waist and pulls him into a soft, chaste kiss; just a gentle press of his closed mouth to Chris’s lips. He doesn’t know what to say yet, so he settles on, “good morning.”  
   
Chris exhales minutely, and Sebastian thinks he might burst into tears if Chris just leaves and goes downstairs and doesn’t acknowledge the kiss or reply or  _something_. Chris hesitates but then he hugs Sebastian, almost tentative at first in a way that breaks Sebastian’s heart but then full-bodied, squeezing tight around Sebastian’s back and pushing his face into Sebastian’s neck. The tightness in Sebastian’s chest blissfully dissipates, and he hugs Chris back. When Chris pulls away, he does it with a kiss to Sebastian’s cheek, and a smile that is small and sad but sincere, and that’s a start, Sebastian thinks, as Chris leaves the room with Dodger and heads down to the main floor to let him out. The worst thing would be Chris pushing him away.   
   
Sebastian makes breakfast, while Chris spends some time with Dodger in the backyard. He put a coat on before he went outside but he didn’t zip it up and his chest is bare, and Sebastian winces watching him through the window. It’s January, and it’s freezing out, and Chris has been nagging him for weeks about dressing more appropriately for the weather and now he’s going to give himself frostbite and likely not even care. He calls Chris in once eggs are fried and toast is popped, and Sebastian viscerally feels it in his own body when Chris shrugs out of the coat and his skin is red from the cold.  
   
“Want me to warm you up?” he asks, trying desperately to put some light back into the dark cloud that’s hanging over them.  
   
Chris smiles at him, but doesn’t take Sebastian up on the offer. He goes upstairs instead, and comes back in a hooded sweatshirt. They eat mostly in silence, with Dodger sniffing around at their feet, hoping for crumbs. Chris gives him the crust from his toast and some peanut butter, and then Dodger wanders off into the living room, satisfied he’s gotten as much as he’s going to get.  
   
Finally Sebastian can’t take how quiet the room is. He’s so out of his league with this. He can barely handle his own issues, he doesn’t know where to even start helping Chris handle his, and he’s so worried he’ll say the wrong thing and make it worse, but even that has to be better than saying nothing.  
   
“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks.  
   
Chris pushes his nearly empty place forward so he can rest his elbows on the table and stare down at his hands. Sebastian has always loved his hands so much. He loves holding them, kissing his knuckles, loves when Chris holds his hips in those big palms, or brushes Sebastian’s hair back, or squeezes them in handfuls of Sebastian’s shirt. Chris has always seemed so strong, even in moments when he’s needy, and now he just seems small and broken and Sebastian is terrified.  
   
“I don’t know what to say,” Chris admits softly, after a minute.  
   
“I don’t either,” Sebastian offers him, hoping on some level there will be comfort in knowing he’s out of his depth too.  
   
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”  
   
Unable to stand the distance, Sebastian reaches across the table and is soothed just a little when Chris lets him take his hand and thread their fingers together. “You wouldn’t let me say that, if this was flipped and it was me in your shoes. Right? You wouldn’t let me blame myself.”  
   
Chris nods. “Were they upset? The organizers?”  
   
“No.” Sebastian gets up, and moves in behind Chris so he can hunch over him and wrap his arms around Chris’s chest. Chris brings one hand up to tangle his fingers in Sebastian’s hair, and Sebastian kisses the side of his face and then leaves his lips resting there. “I told them you had a medical emergency, and they were concerned but they understood.”  
   
“I’m sorry you had to lie for me.”  
   
“Stop,” Sebastian whispers to him. “And it wasn’t a lie.”  
   
Chris’s voice is tiny as he says, “I’ve never had one that bad before.”  
   
“It sounded awful.”  
   
“You know what the worst part is?”  
   
“Tell me.” Sebastian rubs Chris’s chest and stays close.  
   
“I thought … everything’s been so much better, since I met you. My anxiety’s been … it almost felt like it was gone, like it was fixed. So there was a part of me that thought maybe it was. And that’s so  _stupid_ , of course a problem like that doesn’t just magically go away because you’re in a good relationship, but I still … I don’t know. Hoped, I guess. So stupid.”  
   
“Hey.” Sebastian kisses his cheek again, and repeats something he’s said before. “Bully who lives in Chris’s head.”  
   
“Stop being mean to my boyfriend,” Chris finishes, knowing the line well enough by now. “I know. I’m trying.”  
   
“I know you are.”  
   
Chris leans into him.  
   
“I have to go back to my place for a bit. Feed Riot, and pick up some stuff I gotta work on today. Wanna come?”  
   
Chris just shrugs, so Sebastian changes his tactic, putting the need to be together on himself so Chris doesn’t have to worry he’s a burden.  
   
“Please come with me. I don’t wanna be alone today.”  
   
Chris exhales, and Sebastian can tell he sees through it, but he agrees anyway.  
   
They spend most of the day at Sebastian’s apartment. He gets a lot of afternoon sun through his living room windows, and he sits in the corner of his couch with a book in his hands and Chris’s head in his lap. Chris reads as well, and then naps with Sebastian’s cat curled up on his hip, and then watches a movie with the volume low so Sebastian can keep reading. Sebastian keeps him close. He runs his fingers absently through his hair, and rubs his neck, and follows him to the kitchen when Chris gets up in search of some food. They don’t talk about it again, but Sebastian wants Chris to know that he’s there, and he himself feels the ground underneath him a little unsteady and wants to be near Chris too.  
   
As the sun starts to go down, they head back to Chris’s house to feed Dodger. Chris wants to walk him, so Sebastian goes with him, holding hands as they walk through gently falling snowflakes in the stillness of early evening. The snow blankets the traffic noise and gives the world a serene, peaceful atmosphere that Sebastian wants to exist in for as long as he can, even though by the time they head back he’s shivering.  
   
Chris heads upstairs to shower once they shed their winter clothing, and Sebastian settles onto his couch and pulls his book out again. He’s been asked to review it by an old colleague from Penn, and wants to finish it this week if he can. When Chris comes back down the stairs, Sebastian can smell the soap and lotion on him from the shower as he gets close and sits next to Sebastian on the couch. Weeks ago Sebastian had left a bottle of his own shower gel in Chris’s shower stall and Chris has been using it. Sebastian really likes the way it smells on him. He’s in boxers and a t-shirt, skin still a little pink from the hot water and hair damp and drying with little curls at the nape of his neck. He folds his hands in his lap and stares down at them, and Sebastian doesn’t say anything. After most of the day spent just quietly being together and pointedly not getting into the things they will eventually need to talk about, something’s coming now, so Sebastian just waits, lets Chris get to it at his own pace.  
   
It’s a minute or two before anything happens, and Chris starts and stops a few times, sentences only getting to two or three words before he stops and swears, leaning forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. Sebastian sets the book down on the coffee table and moves closer to him, reaching out to squeeze his fingers over the back of Chris’s neck. He still just waits, and Chris takes another minute before he restarts for the third time.  
   
“Can I explain something to you?” he asks quietly.  
   
“Of course.” Sebastian moves his fingers through the wet strands of hair, combing them back.  
   
“You said something, a really long time ago. About how … when my ex wouldn’t, didn’t want to … switch. That it …” he sighs again, and the words fall away.  
   
“It’s okay.” Sebastian keeps stroking his hair. “Take your time.”  
   
“Hard to talk about this stuff,” Chris mumbles, sounding ashamed.  
   
“I know.” Sebastian understands more than Chris knows. He’s tried, a couple of times, to say some important things, and the words won’t come yet every time. He’s opened his mouth and found himself suddenly selectively mute, physically unable to say it, even if he’d wanted to.  
   
“You said it must have made me feel undesirable. That he didn’t want me, like that. Like there was something wrong with me.”  
   
Sebastian nods, and kisses Chris’s shoulder through the t-shirt.  
   
“It did,” Chris admits. “Maybe it shouldn’t have, maybe I made too big a deal out of it, but it did.”  
   
A small wave of apprehension passes over Sebastian, and he says, “I hope you know … last night, it wasn’t about me not wanting you.”  
   
“I know that.” Chris nods, and he’s still looking down, and he reaches over for Sebastian’s other hand, brings it up to his lips and kisses the knuckles. “That’s what I wanted to explain. When we’re together like that … I love everything we do, but that … it does something to me. I don’t really have the right words for it. There’s something about … being able to trust you, knowing you’ll be there taking care of me. You take me apart and then I’m stronger when you put me back together.”  
   
“Chris,” Sebastian murmurs. He wishes Chris would look at him, and at the same time thinks it might be too much if Chris did. Emotion tightens in his chest, grips around his heart and squeezes it.  
   
“My head makes a lotta noise.” Chris licks his lips, and his fingers move over Sebastian’s palm. “Always telling me I’m not enough … anything. Not smart enough or strong enough, not good at my job, not good enough for you. Most of the time I can block it out. Sometimes I can’t. Yesterday, I couldn’t. Being with you, like that … when I’m in your arms and when you’re in me, it’s like this one little moment in the middle of all that noise where I can just. Breathe. Give up control without it feeling scary. Let everything go, trust you to be there to catch me if I fall.”  
   
Sebastian gets up, because even though they’re sitting right next to each other, Chris is suddenly too far away. He nudges Chris to sit back against the cushions and straddles his lap, settling onto Chris’s thighs.  
   
Chris’s hands find his hips, and his eyes are fixed on the center of Sebastian’s chest. “I know you love me.”  
   
“I do,” Sebastian confirms.  
   
“Sometimes my brain is gonna say things that my heart knows aren’t true. Pushing back against that, it’s a battle, and last night I lost. I’m sorry, for thinking you were gonna leave. I only thought it for about 20 minutes total, and then I realized how dumb I was being, but I’m still sorry I thought it at all. But I wasn’t … I didn’t want you to have sex with me because I really doubted you love me. I really need you to know that.  Sometimes it’s just easier to quiet all that noise with some evidence that the things my head is saying aren’t the truth.”  
   
“Please look at me.”  
   
Chris finally does, unshed tears shining against the clear blue of his eyes.  
   
“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian whispers to him, holding Chris’s face in his hands. “I didn’t know all that.”  
   
Chris shakes his head, and almost immediately looks down again. “You were right, not to … last night. I … it wouldn’t have helped. Not when I was that far gone. It wouldn’t have helped, and then I would’ve been devastated that it didn’t, and felt like I forced you into it and … God, it would have fucked everything up.”  
   
Sebastian slouches down and rests his head on Chris’s shoulder. Chris’s arms go around him, holding Sebastian in his lap. He’s the one needing comfort, but sometimes for Chris that comfort comes easier when he isn’t the one being held. Sebastian should have done it this way last night. Sometimes Chris needs to be the bigger one, the stronger one; taking care of the people he loves centers him, and Sebastian knows by now it helps to let him.  
   
“I’m so sorry you’re hurting this much,” he says into Chris’s neck.  
   
Chris sniffs into his hair, and the breath he lets out is shaky.  
   
“Let me take you upstairs?” Sebastian requests.  
   
“I don’t know.” Chris hugs him tighter, and sounds miserable. “I don’t know if I trust myself, now. To want it for the right reasons.”  
   
“The reason is I love you.” He presses a soft kiss to Chris’s jaw, his cheek, sitting up a little and kissing the bridge of his nose and his forehead and then his lips. “Maybe I was wrong. It’s okay if you need reassurance.”  
   
Chris shakes his head. “You weren’t wrong. Demanding proof that you’re not leaving wasn’t fair. And I do believe you love me, I promise I do.”  
   
“Good.” Sebastian kisses him again, soft but fuller this time, slow passes of their lips and his thumbs dragging through Chris’s beard. “Let me show you.”  
   
Chris nods, his forehead rubbing against Sebastian’s as he does. Sebastian climbs off him and takes his hand, leads him quietly up the stairs and to Chris’s bedroom. His heart races a little, almost nervous like it’s their first time all over again, because it feels important. Chris confessed so many significant, painful things, and Sebastian wants to sew all those wounds back up so Chris knows it’s safe to do it again, the next time there are pieces of himself he’s brave enough to share. He presses Chris against the closed door and kisses him, soft and slow and Chris melts into it, going pliant against Sebastian’s body. He pulls Chris’s sweatshirt up, breaking the kiss for a moment so he can get it up over Chris’s head, and his eyes are misty again when Sebastian drops the garment to the floor.  
   
“We’re okay,” he promises, taking Chris’s face back into his hands and placing a reassuring kiss to his lips.  
   
“You don’t have to do this,” Chris says, even as his arms curl around Sebastian’s waist.  
   
“You think I don’t love it, too?” Sebastian rubs the wetness away from Chris’s lower lashes. “You think it doesn’t make my damn heart just about burst knowing you trust me to be the place you feel safe letting go?”  
   
Chris’s exhale is slow and uneven, and his eyes close. Sebastian dips his head down to kiss the tattoo on Chris’s collarbone. With his fingers, he touches the one over Chris’s ribs. The one that’s a memorial, to a story Chris hasn’t told him yet. Sebastian wants to know, but he’s never going to ask. Chris has paid him that courtesy, not demanding Sebastian spill all his own secrets, just giving him loving arms to fall into when he’s ready to talk. As always, Sebastian tries to push that thought away. It hurts too much, while he’s wrapped up with someone he loves, to think about losing him, too.  
   
He takes Chris to the bed, helping him undress and undressing himself and then laying Chris out on his back with his head on the pillows. He still looks lost, and so heartbreakingly vulnerable, so Sebastian worships him. He tries to bestow meaning into every press of his lips, lying over Chris and kissing him until his mouth goes numb. Chris’s arms are tight around Sebastian’s back, holding him close like he’s afraid if he lets go Sebastian might evaporate. He’s warm underneath Sebastian’s body, his lips are sweet and his hair is soft and Sebastian loves him so much. It sometimes feels like he wasted an incredible amount of time, being closed up and secretive and unwilling to give his heart to anyone in case they weren’t gentle with it. Other times it feels like he was just waiting for Chris. Like every time he let someone into his space, into his bed, and kicked them out the next morning, he wasn’t being callous; he was listening to distant, subconscious voices promising  _that wasn’t him. Be patient, he’s on his way._  
   
He kisses down Chris’s neck, licking at warm skin that’s still flavored with a lingering hint of Sebastian’s soap and underneath tastes like Chris. He licks over tattoos, and the lines of muscle, and traces the pattern of hair that swirls over Chris’s chest with the tip of his nose. He loves every inch of Chris, has since the very first time they were together like this. His miles of pale skin, the freckles on his shoulders, the tinge of red in his beard, the endless blue of his eyes. He has more hair on his chest and his stomach and his legs than Sebastian does, and Sebastian loves it so much. The pretty designs it creates, the contrast of dark against a porcelain canvas. Sebastian kisses him everywhere, the hollow of his neck and the undersides of his arms, licking over pink nipples and down the flat planes of his stomach. The muscles clench and release under his tongue, and Chris breathes audibly above him, fingers holding a handful of Sebastian’s hair as he moves lower.  
   
“Every single bit of you is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian says, dipping his tongue into Chris’s bellybutton and then lightly dragging his teeth along the cut of his hip. “I don’t think I tell you that enough. I can’t wrap my head around anyone ever making you feel undesirable even for one second, not when I’ve spent every day for the last four months itching to get my hands on you even when I’m supposed to be thinking about something else. I sit in my office and I try to work and all I can concentrate on is thinking about kissing you, thinking about putting my tongue on every delicious inch of you, thinking about how gorgeous you are when you fall apart under my hands.”  
   
“Seb,” Chris whispers. His hand tightens in Sebastian’s hair. He sounds upset, but Sebastian doesn’t take that personally.  
   
He moves backwards on his knees, settling between Chris’s legs as his mouth works lower. He’s surprised for a moment to find Chris still soft when he gets low enough, but he bypasses it for a moment to nuzzle into his thighs, sucking bruises into impossibly soft skin. He takes Chris into his hand, draws the tip of his cock into his mouth, latching onto it and sucking, licking over supple flesh. He hums around him, but it doesn’t have his desired effect. Chris’s fingers loosen in his hair and his hand falls away.  
   
“Addicted to the way you taste,” Sebastian tells him. Chris’s cock lies against his abdomen and Sebastian drags his tongue up, from the base slowly to the tip.  
   
Above him, Chris makes a miserable sound, and Sebastian startles and looks up. Chris has both hands over his face, breathing heavily against his palms. Sebastian blinks, confused just for a moment, before he comes back to himself and realizes what’s happening.  
   
“Oh.” He looks down, Chris still completely uninterested between his legs, and swears softly. He drops his head down to Chris’s stomach, kissing the skin underneath his lips. His heart hurts in his chest. He once again finds himself completely unqualified to handle what he’s been faced with, floundering and helpless like he felt this morning when they woke up in this bed and Sebastian had been outright petrified at the idea of trying to help and making it worse.  
   
“Fuck,” Chris mumbles, still covering his face with his hands.  
   
“Okay. It’s okay,” Sebastian promises him. And it is, he just doesn’t know how to successfully communicate that. He’s so scared this could break them in a way an anxiety attack never could. That alone, Sebastian thinks he could have fumbled his way through. This could damage Chris, when he was already teetering on the edge of broken.  
   
Sebastian goes back up to lie next to him, lining his body up with Chris’s side, putting a leg over his thighs and tucking his face into Chris’s neck. Chris lifts his hands but doesn’t open his eyes or make any move to pull Sebastian into his arms like he normally would. He’s just motionless, breathing too hard, and Sebastian hugs him with one arm.  
   
“Chris, it’s okay. I’m tired anyway, we can just sleep, right?”  
   
“M’so fucking sorry,” Chris breathes. “What the fuck is wrong with – ”  
   
“No, don’t,” Sebastian cuts in gently. “Please don’t do that to yourself. You think that’s never happened to me? I promise it has. It happens to everyone, and it happens for all kinds of reasons. It doesn’t matter. Tonight wasn’t our night. It’s fine.”  
   
“Everything’s fucked up,” Chris says, quiet and unhappy.  
   
“No, it isn’t.” Sebastian kisses his throat. “I promise. This was a bad weekend. That’s all. We’re okay.”  
   
Sniffing, Chris rolls, curling into Sebastian. Arms wrapping around him, Sebastian cradles Chris close to his chest, and murmurs into his hair, and vows to himself to fix this even though he knows there’s a chance he won’t be able to, and doesn’t know where to even begin.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian’s last class on Mondays this semester is earlier than Chris’s. He’s done just after 1pm, and Chris has a later afternoon lecture. Sebastian waits for him, today. He could go home, and meet up with Chris later, but he doesn’t want Chris alone for any longer than he has to be. Because he really doesn’t know how to help him, Sebastian has landed on just not letting him be alone. In class, or in meetings, Chris will be distracted by other things. He’ll have his lectures to concentrate on, leaving less space in his head to be dwelling endlessly on things Sebastian is trying to keep him from dwelling on. He’ll talk about it for hours if that’s what Chris wants, but if Chris just sits on his couch and overthinks everything, he’ll build this admittedly bad situation into a much bigger deal than it is. Sebastian has no clue if it will help in the long run but he figures no good can come from letting Chris marinate in his own negative thoughts.  
   
He tries to read through a few of the articles he’s had bookmarked for months, but can’t really concentrate on them, so he heads to the gym instead. He finds Anthony in the weight room, sweating and lifting free-weights in bicep curls. Anthony sees him and grins, but finishes his reps before he sets the weights down and reaches out to clap Sebastian’s hand in greeting.  
   
“Haven’t seen you in here in a minute.”  
   
“I know. I need to get back into it.”  
   
“Gettin’ your workouts in other ways?” Anthony asks, with a cheeky grin.  
   
Two days ago, Sebastian would have laughed and joked back. Today, it feels hollow.  
   
It must show on his face, because the smile slips away and Anthony frowns. “Everything okay?”  
   
“Yeah.” Sebastian nods, and shakes his head a little. “Yeah, I’m good.”  
   
“Alright.” Anthony definitely doesn’t believe him, but doesn’t push the issue.  
   
“Hey, listen. I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’m sorry I’ve been kinda distant lately.”  
   
Anthony waves it off. “It’s fine, man. Everybody drops out of their life in the honeymoon phase, when it’s new. Besides, we had dinner just last weekend.”  
   
“I know, I just mean. You and me hanging out. Not double dates. You’re my best friend, too, you know that, right? You’re not just Hayley’s husband.”  
   
Anthony nods. “Yeah, I know that. Nice to hear you say it, though.”  
   
“I’ll start making more time for us.”  
   
“Sweet talker.” Anthony pretends to swoon.   
   
Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Ass. How about you kick my butt into gear? Run me through your workout, Coach.”  
   
“You couldn’t handle it,” Anthony teases.  
   
“You’re right. Go a little easy, then, I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”  
   
Anthony knocks him in the center of his chest, and doesn’t pick the weights back up. “Warm up jog, c’mon.”  
   
They do three laps around the track, and are a few sets into an intense leg routine that has Sebastian sweating, when his phone buzzes with a text from Chris, asking where Sebastian is. He reads it, and he must look guilty when he looks back up, because Anthony is looking at him knowingly.  
   
“That your boy?”  
   
“Yeah.” Sebastian sighs, and rubs his hand over his hair. “He’s … going through some shit. Some kind of heavy shit. I should probably … I’m sorry.”  
   
Anthony shakes his head and waves his hand. “No way, man, don’t be sorry. If he’s going through some shit you better be puttin’ him first. When I’m going through some shit you can blow him off to hang out with me.”  
   
Sebastian considers it for just a moment, and decides maybe being with friends and getting his blood pumping would be better for Chris than the two of them going home to sit together in the mess they’re in. He texts Chris back, letting him know where he is and who he’s with and asking if Chris wants to join them, and gets an affirmative response. Twenty minutes later Chris shows up, in shorts and an Under Armour tank, and Anthony whistles at him and makes a big deal out of him, and Chris actually smiles. It’s the happiest Sebastian has seen him look in days. They laugh and tease each other as they sweat, Anthony going out of his way to get Chris cracking up, and Sebastian has never loved his friend more than he does in that moment, watching him work to put a smile on Chris’s face when he knows Chris is going through a hard time.  
   
In Chris’s truck together an hour later, Chris reaches for Sebastian’s hand and squeezes it. Sebastian looks at him, and feels just a little less hopeless than he did yesterday.  
   
*           *           *


	23. Chapter 23

Chris teaches his class on Friday morning and then spends the rest of the day in the library up to his elbows in microfilm. His eye sockets are sore from overuse by the time he quits, but he leaves the building with the bounce in his step that being productive always gives him. A Word document on his laptop has nearly 10 thousand words of notes that didn’t exist yesterday, and it’s a good start. He heads to his office, but he has to walk past Sebastian’s on the way there and he notices the door open and the light on. He peeks in, finding Sebastian hunched over his desk, leaned heavily on his elbows and muttering softly to himself. There are books spread out around him, and a pink highlighter pen tucked behind his ear. Strands of brown hair fall over his eyes. He’s been growing it out, Chris thinks probably because he’s always putting his fingers in it and Sebastian took the hint. Chris presses his lips together and tries to keep cartoon hearts from radiating off him too obviously.  
   
He knocks gently on the wooden door with his knuckles, and winces when Sebastian jumps a little. “Sorry. Was trying not to startle you.”  
   
Sebastian breathes out a laugh, pushing his hair back off his forehead and accidentally knocking the highlighter to the floor. He swears and leans down to pick it up, setting it in between the pages of the book he’d been reading, holding his place.  
   
“What are you reading?”  
   
Sebastian holds it up, showing Chris a brown cover. “Laboring Women: Reproduction and Gender in New World Slavery.”  
   
“God.” Chris winces again. “That … that sounds literally horrible.”  
   
“Yeah, it’s not exactly a fun read.” Sebastian puts it back down. “I’ve read it a few times, I just like to refamiliarize myself with things before I teach them.”  
   
“I won’t bother you.” Chris gestures to the hallway behind him. “I was on my way to my office, thought I’d say hi.”  
   
“You’re never bothering me.” Sebastian smiles at him. “Come in.”  
   
Chris does, shutting the door behind him and setting his bag on the floor. He sits on Sebastian’s couch, and Sebastian gets up and joins him, sitting right beside him and nestling himself immediately against Chris’s chest. Chris chuckles, wrapping his arms around him.  
   
“Hi baby,” he says, kissing his hair.  
   
“Hello smart, kind, beautiful man who I am very much in love with,” Sebastian answers, and Chris can’t possibly contain the cartoon hearts after that.  
   
“Little over the top,” he jokes, to cover for the way the feeling spreads down to his toes.  
   
“I disagree. It’s entirely justified,” Sebastian argues. He looks up, smiling, those stunning blue eyes creased at the edges, and Chris leans forward and kisses him softly.  
   
“I believe you, when you say things like that. I believe you mean it,” he murmurs into Sebastian’s mouth.  
   
“That makes me so happy,” Sebastian whispers back. He snuggles back in, curled up against Chris, and Chris holds him close and breathes him in. “Good day?”  
   
“Yeah, actually. Got a lot done. My eyes are sore.”  
   
“Let’s go home, then. I can finish the book over the weekend.”  
   
“I don’t need to pull you away before you’re finished. I can meet you later.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “My eyes are sore, too. I wanna go home with you.”  
   
“Okay,” Chris answers, but then he doesn’t move, and Sebastian doesn’t either. He sinks down a little further into the soft velvet.   
   
“You smell good,” Sebastian says, into his neck.  
   
“I smell like you.” Chris grins. “You replaced all the stuff in my shower with yours.”  
   
“Noticed that, did you?”  
   
“Hayley says you do it to claim people.”  
   
“Well that’s embarrassing,” Sebastian laughs at himself.  
   
“No. It’s wonderful.” Chris hugs him a little closer. “Where do you even get a green velvet couch?”  
   
“Ordered it. You like it, huh?”  
   
“I like soft things.”  
   
“I know.”  
   
It’s on the tip of Chris’s tongue to say that one of these days they’re going to have to sneak in here late at night after everyone’s gone home and have sex on this couch, just so he could feel the material against his bare skin. He lets it die before it passes his lips. It might lead to a conversation he isn’t ready to have, yet, although he can tell it’s coming anyway at some point.  
   
“C’mon,” Sebastian says, patting Chris’s stomach and then sitting up. “Let’s go home.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian appears above his head, leaning down to kiss Chris’s forehead. “Mind if I join you?”  
   
Chris shakes his head, and sets his book down on the coffee table after bending the corner of the page he was on to save his place. Sebastian climbs carefully onto him, lying down on top of Chris, covering his whole body. He’s warm and heavy and his weight presses Chris into the couch. He wraps his arms around Sebastian’s back as he settles in. Sebastian’s lips find his neck, and he presses a soft kiss to Chris’s skin. The early afternoon sun filters in through the front windows of Chris’s house, bathing them in heat like a blanket.  
   
“Get bored of working?” Chris asks. Minutes ago, Sebastian had been absorbed in an enormous stack of essays, spread out over his desk in the corner.  
   
“Got bored of not having you closer,” Sebastian answers.  
   
“Not a bad line,” Chris jokes. “B+.”  
   
“Thanks, Professor,” Sebastian jokes back, with another kiss to Chris’s neck. “I’ll do better next time.”  
   
“Maybe you should see me after class.”  
   
Sebastian laughs softly, and it rumbles through his chest and vibrates down into Chris’s. Chris rubs his hand absently up and down Sebastian’s back. For a moment, Sebastian doesn’t speak, but Chris can tell he’s about to, so he waits. Sebastian kisses his skin one more time before he does. “I think we gotta talk. About last weekend.”  
   
Chris swallows. “I didn’t do enough talking right after it happened?”  
   
“Not about that,” Sebastian says gently. “About the other thing.”  
   
“Oh.” Chris lets his eyes close, and fights the urge to get up and run out of the room so they don’t have to. Having it happen was humiliating enough, acknowledging it in the light of day feels a hundred times worse. His skin crawls and he wants the earth to open up and swallow him. He definitely knew this was coming, and still definitely wasn’t ready for it.  
   
“I didn’t …” Sebastian exhales quietly. “I didn’t want to push you. I wanted to let you deal with it in your own way, I didn’t … want to come at you before you were ready and make it worse. I was gonna let you come to me. But it’s been a week and you haven’t, so … maybe we need to talk about it. Because every day that we don’t, it just gets bigger. Doesn’t it?”  
   
“Yeah,” Chris agrees.  
   
“The reason I haven’t … the reason  _we_ haven’t done anything, since then. It’s just that. Okay? I was just worried about rushing things and making it worse. No other reason.”  
   
“I can suck you off or something if you want.”  
   
“You know that’s not what I mean.” He tucks his head under Chris’s chin. “I have a right hand if all I cared about was getting off.”  
   
“So you’re not repulsed by me now?” Chris asks, trying to make it a dark joke, but it comes out sounding more serious that he’d intended and it leaves a pit in his stomach. He always tries to joke about things when they’re too real, and it always gives him away to people who know him well.  
   
“Chris.”  
   
“Yeah,” he says again. “Sorry.”  
   
“Don’t be sorry.”  
   
“I don’t …” Chris sighs. “I don’t know what to say. I miss you. But I’m scared it’s gonna happen again, and then every day that goes by that we don’t … I’m just building it up in my head.”  
   
“You had three really horrible days,” Sebastian tells him, his voice soothing. “That’s all this was. It’s not a medical condition, there’s no reason to think it would happen again.”  
   
“I guess.”  
   
“Have you … since then?”  
   
Chris shifts, uncomfortable but he forces the words out anyway. Sebastian is trying, and he deserves for Chris to try too. “Woke up with one the other day. Thursday, when you didn’t stay over.”  
   
“Wish I’d been there. What did you do about it?”  
   
“Nothing. Laid there until it went away.”  
   
“You’re scared to touch yourself?” Sebastian asks, emphasizing the last word. He sounds desperately sad.  
   
Instead of answering, Chris clarifies, “I didn’t wake up hard because you weren’t there. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”  
   
“I didn’t hear it that way,” Sebastian says. “Why don’t you … all the shit I know’s been running through your head since it happened. Why don’t you say some of it out loud?”  
   
“It’s just noise,” Chris mumbles.  
   
“Tell me the worst things you’ve been thinking. Even if you know they’re not true, even if they make no sense. Let that bully out so we can push back against what it’s telling you.”  
   
Chris swallows again, thick and uncomfortable. He hates himself for the worst one, so he gets it out of the way first. “That you’d laugh at me. If it happened again.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head, and moves, like he’s trying to burrow further into Chris’s arms. “I wouldn’t. I promise.”  
   
“I know. I know that, I just … can’t seem to turn it off.”  
   
“What else?”  
   
“That maybe you’ve told people. Hayley and Mackie. Maybe everyone knows and they’re all laughing at me too.”  
   
“I wouldn’t do that either. I know I tell Hayley a lot. But I tell her about me. About how I’m feeling, and about things you did that made me happy. I don’t tell her your secrets. They stay between us.” Sebastian pauses, and then he sighs and adds, “okay, that’s not always true. I’m sorry. She knows you were cheated on. I shouldn’t have told her that, without checking with you first. I’m really sorry.”  
   
“I don’t mind that one so much.”  
   
“Still. I won’t tell her personal stuff about you without asking you first if I can, okay? From now on.”  
   
Chris nods. “Thank you.”  
   
Sebastian moves again, pushing himself up to his elbows so he can kiss Chris properly. “Let me take you on a date tonight. It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”  
   
“I see you every day.”  
   
“I know, I mean a real date, though. Nice clothes and a nice restaurant.”  
   
“And then we come back here and end up disappointed?”  
   
Sebastian frowns and kisses him again, longer this time. “You are not a disappointment because you’re going through a rough time. And it’s not about that. It’s not just a prelude to sex, we’ve been walking on eggshells around this all week, sitting around stewing in it. We deserve to have a break. You deserve to get dressed up and let me hold your hand across the table in a restaurant with candles and live music and stuffy old ladies giving us dirty looks.”  
   
Chris manages to laugh a little at that. “The dirty looks are my favorite part.”  
   
“Mine is this sparkly thing your eyes do when I tell you how beautiful you are.” Sebastian’s lips curve into a soft smile. “There, just now. They just did it.”  
   
Reaching up, Chris brushes the backs of his knuckles over Sebastian’s cheek. Sebastian turns into it, smiling with his eyes closed. When Chris’s hand falls away, Sebastian lies back down, head on Chris’s shoulder.  
   
“You gotta know by now I’m not just in this for the sex,” Sebastian says softly. “Not that it’s not great. It is. But we’re more than that.”  
   
“I do know that. I just …”  
   
“Do you remember that dinner party at Hayley’s house, before we were dating?”  
   
“Yeah.” Chris smiles a little as he recalls that night. “God, I had such a big dumb crush on you.”  
   
“Me too.”  
   
“What about it?”  
   
“Before you got there, Hayley was trying to talk me out of spending too much time with you. We thought you were straight, and she was worried I was going to fall in love with you anyway and fuck myself over. And I said … something about, how maybe someone could love me someday. And she got upset. Told me one day someone was going to be lucky to have me and love me so much they couldn’t handle it.”  
   
“Right, as she usually is.”  
   
“That’s you,” Sebastian murmurs to him. “You’re my person, Chris. We can get through this. Let me take you on a real date and … I don’t know, reset everything. Get us back to where we were before all this.”  
   
Chris nods, and hates that he’s still so worried about everything. Sebastian is lying in his arms trying to make it better and Chris can’t even let him. “What about when we do get back here? What if I can’t?”  
   
“Then you can’t. And we try again another time.”  
   
Nodding again, Chris takes a deep breath and tightens his arms around Sebastian. “Okay.”  
   
Sebastian makes a reservation, and won’t tell Chris where. They spend the rest of the afternoon working at Chris’s kitchen table, with Sebastian’s foot resting against Chris’s on the floor, just to maintain contact as they’re absorbed in their separate tasks. When he gets up to make a cup of tea, he pauses on his way past to lean over and hug Chris, kissing the side of his face and whispering loving words into his skin.   
   
He’s gone when Chris gets out of the shower, later. There’s a note on the bed saying he’ll be right back, and that Chris should get dressed, so he does. He puts on his navy suit, because it’s Sebastian’s favorite, and a black dress shirt. He picks up a black tie, but then changes his mind and leaves the top few buttons on his shirt open instead. He rubs product through his hair, and trims his beard a little where it’s getting too long. He’s rinsing toothpaste from his mouth as the sound of the door opening downstairs makes it up to him, and he wipes his mouth with a tissue and leaves his bedroom, heading for the stairs.  
   
He’s only halfway down them when Sebastian comes into view, standing by the door, waiting for him. He’s in a satin black suit and shiny shoes, and a shirt with daisies on it that’s so sheer Chris can almost see his skin through it. It looks expensive. His hair is tucked behind his ears, and his eyes look somehow even bluer than normal against his caramel skin. There’s a bouquet of roses in his left hand; pink ones, arranged with baby’s breath and wrapped in matching paper. Just like the ones Chris had brought him, early in their relationship. The night they went to bed together for the first time. The first time Chris got to taste him, and touch all that beautiful skin, and make him fall apart. He’d been in love with Sebastian already, back then, even though it would still be a while before he said it out loud.  
   
“Will you go to prom with me?” Sebastian asks, smiling at his own joke, as Chris descends the stairs.  
   
“Only if you get me home by midnight, and no funny business,” Chris jokes back.  
   
Sebastian groans exaggeratedly. “Fine, but I’m feeling you up in the limo.”  
   
“Well, yeah, it’s not prom if you don’t get felt up in a limo.” Chris goes to him, and Sebastian hands the flowers over. “Pink roses?”  
   
“Figured we might as well make it our thing.”  
   
“You didn’t have to.”  
   
“I know.” Sebastian shrugs. “I wanted to. You deserve to be romanced.”  
   
“Trying to sweep me off my feet?”  
   
“Yeah. Is it working?”  
   
Chris wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him into a kiss. “It’s working. They’re beautiful. And so are you.”  
   
“Did you go to your prom?”  
   
“Yes.” Chris wrinkles his nose up, walking toward the kitchen to put the flowers in water. He doesn’t have a vase so he uses a water jug instead. “The girl I took dumped me at a house party afterwards, and I got drunk and fell asleep on the front lawn outside.”  
   
“God.” Sebastian laughs, with his hands on Chris’s hips from behind and his chin on Chris’s shoulder. “That’s pretty bad.”  
   
“What was yours like?”  
   
“Whatever extravagance you’re picturing, double it. Then imagine a bunch of rich kids doing party drugs and fighting over stupid shit.”  
   
“Sounds fun.”  
   
Sebastian laughs again. “It was a nightmare. There was this girl, that … our parents were friends, and everyone kinda thought we’d get married and. I don’t know, create some kind of business dynasty or something. Her family was in real estate. I don’t think she ever really liked me that much, I think she’d been told since she was a kid that she had to find a rich husband. I danced with another girl and she spent the rest of the night crying in the bathroom.”  
   
Chris cringes. “Wow, that sounds bad too.”  
   
“I never saw her again,” Sebastian says. “I never saw most of them again. I just kind of … disappeared.”  
   
Chris turns around, draping his arms over Sebastian’s shoulders and kissing him. “I’m proud of you, for making your own life away from all that.”  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“Do I get to know where we’re going now?”  
   
“Shell and Bones. Where we – ”  
   
“Our first date,” Chris finishes, smiling as warmth fills him.  
   
Sebastian nods. “Back to the beginning.”  
   
“Can I tell you how much I wanted to kiss you that whole night?”  
   
“Probably about as much as I wanted to kiss you.” Sebastian leans in and presses his lips to the corner of Chris’s mouth. “Tonight you can, whenever you want.”  
   
“Don’t give me a leash that long, I might throw you down on our table.”  
   
Sebastian laughs softly. “Okay, maybe not  _whenever_ you want.”  
   
Chris takes his hand, and squeezes it.  
   
Sebastian drives, and they sing along to a Rihanna song in the car. Chris hasn’t been back to the restaurant since their first date, and it does feel like a nice reset, like Sebastian wanted. Their table by the window overlooks the snowy harbor, and Sebastian glows in candlelight, just like he did that night in September. He reaches across the table after they order and takes Chris’s hand, threading their fingers together. Chris smiles at him. Talking to him has always been easy. Sebastian tells him about an interesting discussion he had in one of his seminars this week. Chris listens, and is sure there is a dopey smile on his face the whole time. When their drinks arrive Sebastian holds his wine glass up to clink against Chris’s before taking a sip, and it feels romantic and intimate and Chris loves him more than he could possibly articulate.  
   
After they leave, Sebastian turns his car out of the parking lot in the opposite direction of both their homes, and Chris frowns at him. “Am I being kidnapped?”  
   
“I have another surprise.” Sebastian doesn’t look at him, but he’s smiling, and he’s gorgeous in profile, square jaw and straight nose and bronzy skin.  
   
He drives them a few minutes, and pulls into the lot of a building with music spilling out through the open door. Big-band jazz fills Chris’s ears as they go inside. He takes in tables and a lit-up bar at the far end and a large wooden dance floor with a live band at the front of it. Sebastian is waving at someone, and Chris follows his line of sight and sees Anthony and Hayley at a table across the room, Anthony in a grey suit and Hayley in a dramatic red dress with a flared hem. Chris looks at him, and Sebastian grins and shrugs and pulls him by the hand over to their friends.  
   
“Don’t you both look handsome,” Hayley gushes at them, hugging them each in turn.  
   
Anthony greets them with his cool-guy handshakes, and a friendly clap to Chris’s upper arm. Then he takes Hayley’s hand, in a goofy 1940s accent says, “let’s cut a rug, doll,” and takes her onto the floor. He twirls her by her hand and then dips her with an arm around her back, and she laughs, loud and bright.  
   
Chris blinks at Sebastian, and Sebastian is still grinning at him and laughing quietly. “Are you gonna be okay?”  
   
The look on Chris’s face must still be stunned and dumbfounded, and he finally manages to shake it off. He’s blown away, and flattered and touched and ridiculously in love, but can save all that for later. He holds out his hand, and Sebastian takes it.  
   
The music is loud and exuberant, and Chris has never been any good at dancing but he tries, and it’s so nice having Sebastian against him in a room full of people. Sebastian’s laugh when he’s really happy is the most beautiful thing, his whole face changes and his nose scrunches up adorably and Chris would die for it. He shimmies absurdly just to get that nose scrunching again, and then wraps Sebastian up in his arms and spins him. As the song ends and the next one starts, Hayley pushes in between them and steals Sebastian, so Anthony points at Chris and smiles and does a horrible rendition of the robot on the way over to him. They switch again for the next one, Chris getting his turn with Hayley and Sebastian and Anthony doing some kind of exaggerated waltz and probably annoying the rest of the dancers. Chris is far too happy to care.  
   
“Thank you so much for coming,” he says to Hayley, side-stepping with her as she leads him through a peppy number; a much better dancer than he is. Chris suspects Hayley is better than he is at almost literally everything. “I hope you didn’t have to cancel plans for this.”  
   
“Our plans were falling asleep on the couch halfway through a documentary on the Second World War,” she says, with a laugh. “This is much more fun.”  
   
“I don’t know, that sounds pretty good too.”  
   
“We’re too young to be an old married couple. I will take dancing with my boys over napping on the couch in sweatpants any night of the week.”  
   
“I’ve been going through it a bit lately, I … needed this,” he admits, and her responding smile is empathetic but so kind.  
   
“I’m sorry to hear that. But good, I’m glad we could help.”  
   
Sebastian is in the bathroom when a slow song starts, so Chris sits at their table and sips at a rum and Coke, watching Hayley and Anthony moving together on the floor. He keeps whispering things into her ear and she keeps laughing, and Chris’s heart swells watching them.   
   
Sebastian appears at his side, bending down to kiss his hair. “Having fun?”  
   
Chris beams up at him. “So much. This is amazing, thank you.”  
   
“‘Course,” Sebastian shrugs. “Dance with me?”  
   
Chris lets himself be taken to the floor, and Sebastian takes one hand in his and wraps the other around Chris’s shoulders. Chris pulls him in close, swaying with him to the slow beat of the song. A velvet-voiced female singer croons about love and sunshine and fields of flowers, and Chris feels like he’s taken there listening to her.  
   
“I don’t know how I ever survived without you,” he says honestly.  
   
“Got me now,” Sebastian whispers.  
   
“Can I keep you?” Chris whispers back.  
   
Sebastian nods, and his forehead rubs against Chris’s where they’re pressed together.  
   
They don’t move apart when the song ends. There’s scattered applause around them, and the band leader cracks about picking up the tempo a bit and a livelier song begins, and Chris stays right where he is. Sebastian lets go of his hand and wraps that arm around Chris’s shoulders too, their dancing position turning into an embrace in the middle of the floor. Something feels so important about it, Chris consumed by the moment and Sebastian in his arms. It feels like floating away, like nothing else in the entire world exists. Emotion rises in his throat, and he swallows to keep it down.  
   
After a minute a hand rubs his arm, and Hayley’s voice gently says, “you’re still in public, my darlings. Maybe let’s move this off the dance floor.”  
   
Chris looks up to see her smiling at them. Sebastian’s face, when he lifts it from Chris’s shoulder, is dazed; cheeks flushed and eyes glassy like he’d gone somewhere else for a moment while Chris held him. He blinks a few times, and Chris kisses his cheek and lets Hayley lead them back to their table.  
   
They stay until after midnight, when the band finally announces the end of their set, and recorded music replaces them over the speakers. Hayley demands to be taken home before her feet fall off, and a round of hugs to say goodbye ends with him picking Hayley up bridal style and carrying her out of the club. Sebastian is leaning heavily against Chris and yawning, and Chris doesn’t pick him up and carry him out, even though he wants to.  
   
“Where am I heading?” Sebastian asks, as they get back into his car and he pulls it out of the lot.  
   
“Your place,” Chris decides. Tonight feels significant, and he wants it to be in Sebastian’s bed, like the first time was. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to text the old lady who lives next door to him, who babysits Dodger sometimes when he’s gone for the night. “Linda can take Dodger.”  
   
Chris kisses Sebastian’s neck as he struggles to get his door unlocked, and they stumble inside together. Sebastian’s cat looks up at them briefly from his spot on the back of a chair, and then puts his head back down and ignores them. Chris keeps kissing him on the way to the bedroom, with Sebastian laughing beautifully into his mouth. Chris’s head is spinning already, consumed with the way Sebastian smells and the way he feels against him, warmth and squeezing hands and burning kisses. He’s pushing at Chris’s jacket, getting it off and then starting in on the buttons, when he pauses.  
   
“You can touch me,” Chris murmurs to him, sensing Sebastian’s hesitancy.  
   
Given permission, Sebastian undoes Chris’s pants and slowly slides a hand into them, curling his warm fingers around Chris’s length. Blood rushes to it as he touches, and he smiles against Chris’s lips. “Told you.”  
   
“Yeah, you did.”  
   
“You want … what we tried last time?”  
   
Chris nods. “Please.”  
   
“Get undressed.” Sebastian does the same, watching Chris hungrily as skin is revealed. He lays Chris down on his bed and crawls over him, settling down on him so their skin can touch. He kisses Chris like he won’t be able to breathe if he stops. “Sometimes I think my heart stops for a moment when I look at you,” Sebastian tells him, his voice quiet and overwhelmed.  
   
“Mine, too.” Chris smiles at him, taking Sebastian’s face in his hands. “I love you so much.”  
   
“I love you more.” Sebastian presses the words with kisses into Chris’s forehead.  
   
It’s slower than usual; more emotional and more heartfelt and so much more important. Sebastian moves with him carefully, deliberately, taking Chris apart piece by piece like he always does but more fully this time. It feels transcendent. Chris’s mind wants to float away but Sebastian doesn’t let him; he nudges Chris’s nose with his own and urges him, “stay with me,” so Chris does, locked onto the shiny blue of Sebastian’s eyes, so thoroughly unravelled by him but so safe knowing Sebastian is here with him. He’s never felt more vulnerable or more loved. Sebastian understands him, and accepts him, and loves him right through his weaker moments. He’s not sure anyone has ever done that before. Or maybe Chris just never let anyone see him the way Sebastian does, for fear they wouldn’t. When he comes that’s slow too, building up quietly in him and spilling over almost gently, with Sebastian whispering nice things in his ear and surrounding him.  
   
Chris takes Sebastian’s hand, after Sebastian has cleaned them up and tucked them under the covers, running his fingers over it and bringing Sebastian’s fingers up to his mouth to kiss. Chris knows he does that a lot. He kisses Sebastian’s knuckles, and his wrist, and the heel of his palm. When he lets go of it, Sebastian leaves it where it is; resting against Chris’s cheek, cupping his jaw, thumb moving in a gentle, steady arc across Chris’s cheekbone.  
   
“Love these hands,” Chris whispers to him.  
   
Sebastian nods. He tilts his chin up, so his lips can find Chris’s neck.  
   
“How many times have they held me together?” Chris wonders, his voice quiet, asking the question of himself more than of Sebastian. “How many times have we lied right here, in this bed or in mine, with you holding all these broken pieces of me in your arms?”  
   
“You’re not broken,” Sebastian tells him. His thumb keeps rubbing.  
   
“Fractured, then. Or splintered, or something. Point is, you … things might be better, now, because of you. You put me back together when I’m falling apart.”  
   
“Good.” Another kiss to his neck, and then Sebastian angles his head back and asks for one to his lips. Chris gives it to him, soft and warm. “I’ll keep at it, then.”  
   
“You know I’d return the favor, right?” Chris’s lips drag along Sebastian’s cheek, and then he tucks Sebastian back under his chin, where he can keep him safe. “Still not pushing. Just reminding you. Whenever it’s your turn to fall apart, you come do it right here.”  
   
Sebastian swallows, and it clicks in his throat, but he nods again and stays curled in Chris’s protective arms. “I know.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
The first Sunday in February, they have Hayley and Anthony over again to watch the Superbowl. Scott comes down from Boston to join them. As Chris predicted, he’s obsessed with Hayley, and she seems to return the sentiment – gushing over how handsome he is and how much he looks like Chris. Scott is a little more feminine in nature than Chris or Sebastian are, so he compliments her on her highlights and her nail polish and she sparkles under the attention. Scott doesn’t really care about football either, so Chris and Anthony are outnumbered and have to keep nagging at the others to keep it down so they can pay attention to the game. Hayley and Sebastian and Scott get bored halfway through the second quarter and disappear off toward the kitchen, with instructions for Chris to call them back for the half-time show. It’s an uneventful game until near the end, but the Patriots take it and extend their ridiculous streak, and Sebastian at least pretends to care, and Chris is over the moon, surrounded by his new family. He isn’t dumb enough to make the mistake twice, to think that everything is magically fixed just because he’s happy again. But it feels like a good start.  
   
*           *           *


	24. Chapter 24

Sebastian is turning a page in the book he’s reading when he hears a key turning the lock of his door. He looks up, smiling at Chris as he lets himself into the apartment. It’s a particularly blustery day in early March so he has a fire going, and Chris’s hair and shoulders are dotted with snow as he comes inside. He smiles back, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it up, crossing his arms over his chest as he walks over, obviously still cold. He stops a few feet away from Sebastian, and his expression goes from neutral and pink-cheeked to something a little darker; eyes changing as Sebastian looks up at him.  
   
“What?” he asks.  
   
“You got new glasses,” Chris says.  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian brings his hand up to his face, adjusting the dark red frames. “No, I didn’t, these are my old ones. I forgot my current pair in my office.”  
   
Chris just stares at him.  
   
Sebastian asks, “what?” again, this time with a nervous laugh.  
   
“Put the book down,” Chris says – not a request – as he marches over. Sebastian doesn’t have time to react or follow the directive before Chris is grabbing it from his hands and literally tossing it to the side. It knocks into the corner of Sebastian’s coffee table and tumbles to the floor.  
   
He splutters a protest that Chris swallows up with his mouth as he crashes into Sebastian, roughly falling into his lap and kissing him hard enough to bruise and for Sebastian to taste metallic blood on the inside of his lip when his teeth cuts into the flesh. He’s indignant for about three seconds before his body understands through the shock what’s happening and gets itself on board, and he grabs the back of Chris’s neck and kisses back just as ferociously. Chris devours him, outright growling low in his throat as he shoves his tongue into Sebastian’s mouth and licks around it, constantly moving like he’s trying to climb into Sebastian’s skin.  
   
“Got no right to be so damn sexy,” he mutters, sounding almost annoyed by it.  
   
Sebastian pulls his glasses off so they don’t dig into his nose with Chris’s face this close to his. He tries to set them on the side table next to his couch but he misses and they fall to the floor as well, bouncing on the hardwood. “The fuck are you this worked up for?” he asks as Chris sucks on his neck, not complaining whatsoever but curious nonetheless.  
   
“You want my life story or you want me to eat you out until you’re begging me to let you come?” Chris asks, lips still on Sebastian’s neck, voice raspy and thick with arousal, and Sebastian moans as his eyes close on their own, and he loses the ability to think clearly enough to answer with Chris grinding against him. Chris chuckles, low and gravelly. “That’s what I thought.”  
   
He climbs off and yanks Sebastian to his feet by his hand, tugging him off toward the bedroom, and Sebastian can only follow helplessly and try to blink the fog from his vision and hang onto Chris’s hand for dear life.  
   
*           *           *  
   
An hour later he’s sitting at his kitchen table in his underwear and a t-shirt, smiling to himself as he watches Chris add spices to a stir-fry. Chris in his boxers and one of Sebastian’s old sweatshirts, sleeves pushed up his muscled forearms and a little tight across the shoulders where he’s bigger than Sebastian, is a really good look, and Sebastian appreciates it thoroughly as he watches Chris humming and cooking.  
   
Chris looks up and catches him staring, and grins at him. Sebastian smiles back. “Are you gonna help, or just sit there objectifying me?”  
   
“I can do both.” Sebastian gets up, goes over to Chris and wraps his arms around Chris’s waist from behind. He kisses the back of Chris’s neck, warm skin and the lingering salt of clean sweat from their athletic adventure in Sebastian’s bedroom. He slides his hand slowly down Chris’s chest and over his stomach, reaching down to cup him between his legs.  
   
Chris inhales quietly and stills for a moment. “Round two already?”  
   
“After dinner.” Sebastian kisses the nape of his neck again. “Wouldn’t want all your hard work to go to waste. How can I help?”  
   
“Chop up a red pepper.”  
   
Sebastian goes to his refrigerator and pulls a bell pepper from the plastic bag in the vegetable crisper, and slices into it on the counter. He tips them into the wok on the stove, and Chris thanks him with a kiss that lingers a little longer than either of them meant it to.  
   
“Do you have fresh garlic?” Chris asks.  
   
“Yeah, in the corner cupboard.” Sebastian points, as he walks over toward the garbage can with the cutting board and the unusable bits of the pepper to scrape them into the bin. He puts it and the knife in the dishwasher when he’s done, and picks up the spoon Chris had left on the counter to resume stirring as Chris goes for the garlic cloves. It’s a minute before he notices Chris is standing motionless in the corner, and the cupboard is still closed. Sebastian frowns at him. “Chris?”  
   
He still doesn’t move. His head is tipped down a little, staring intently at something on the counter that Sebastian can’t see because Chris’s body is blocking his view. He sets the spoon down and turns more fully, about to repeat his question when Chris speaks.  
   
“What is this?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”  
   
Slowly, Chris turns, holding up a small stack of papers, and it takes Sebastian a moment to recognize it as some financial documents he’d been gathering this afternoon, with the intent to file them away in the cabinet by his desk, before he’d been distracted by his cat and left them on the counter. He’d forgotten until just this moment he never went back to them after he’d spent a few minutes entertaining Riot with a laser-pointer. Sebastian frowns, still confused for a second as to why Chris would care about his payroll forms and his electric bills and bank statements, until he realizes his December visa statement is on top, and that’s what Chris would have unintentionally seen.  
   
He’s always hated  _blood runs cold_ as an expression because it’s never made any sense to him, but all of a sudden it does. His whole body goes cold, as horrible realization washes over him. He’d been looking at that statement only a few hours ago, and he knows exactly what item Chris will have noticed and taken issue with. Chris wouldn’t care that Sebastian spent $200 on a new pair of shoes or $400 on a necklace for Hayley for Christmas. Sebastian spends too much on things sometimes, but he does it because he can and Chris has never expressed an issue with it. He knows what Chris saw, and his heart is beating so quickly it hurts in his chest.  
   
“18 grand?” Chris says quietly, his eyes narrowed slightly but sharp as they bore into Sebastian.  
   
Sebastian doesn’t know what to say. He panics, his mind is racing too fast to churn out any coherent or helpful response. He wants to run away, but he’s rooted to the spot, by fear and by some sick desire to revel in consequences. He should have known all along that he’d fuck this up eventually. It took a lot longer to happen than it usually does, but Sebastian always manages to make a mess of things, so it was coming one way or another. He doesn’t know how to explain, and what comes out of his mouth is a desperate, “it doesn’t matter.”  
   
“It doesn’t  _matter_?” Chris repeats loudly; incredulously.  
   
“Chris, it doesn’t … I knew you couldn’t …” Sebastian presses his lips together, and is about half a second away from bursting into tears. He’s never seen that look on Chris’s face before. He’s seen Chris devastated and scared and indignant and all sorts of things, because Chris feels his emotions at least twice as heavily as other people do, but he’s never seen Chris look this  _angry_. It’s terrifying. “I didn’t want it to be a big thing. It doesn’t have to be a big thing, I can afford it, and you …”  
   
“I can’t,” Chris finishes, nodding quickly and looking back down at the papers in his hand. “I can’t, so you lied to me. You let me pay you fifteen hundred bucks and told me that was half of it.”  
   
“You can’t have really thought that was true!” Sebastian cries. It’s a frantic, defensive ploy to take the heat off himself, and he’s furious with himself for it, but he’s so panicked that he seems to have lost the ability to filter his thoughts before they come flying out of his mouth. He loves Chris so much, and if this ruins them Sebastian will never forgive himself for as long as he lives. “Chris, it was a suite in a Manhattan hotel, it was bigger than my apartment, and we were there for a week! You can’t really have thought it went for only a few hundred a night!”  
   
“Oh, so it’s my fault for trusting you?” Chris yells, suddenly loud, and Sebastian flinches.  
   
“That’s not what I meant.”  
   
“I thought – fuck, I don’t know what I thought! I thought maybe your step-Dad was friends with the owner of the company and you got a deal or something, I …” Chris gapes at him, and then angrily throws the papers back down onto the counter. “No, you know what I thought? I thought, yeah, that seems low, but Sebastian loves me, and Sebastian knows I have trust issues from my past, and if Sebastian says it only cost three grand then that must be the truth because he wouldn’t lie to me. My fault for being an idiot and not realizing you were low-balling that price by fucking  _fifteen thousand dollars._  What you let me pay you was less than the cost of one night!”  
   
“I wanted …” Sebastian inhales and it burns in his chest. He covers his face with his hands and leans back against the counter. His skin is burning, and every breath takes effort and if his heart races any faster it might explode behind his ribcage. “Fuck. I wanted us to have a nice place, I wanted you to get to stay in a place like that. I never intended for you to pay for it, going to New York was my idea so I assumed it would be my treat. And then you showed up talking about how you wanted to pay for half of it, and I said you didn’t have to but you insisted, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell you what it would cost and ruin our vacation before it even started.”  
   
“Why would you think that would ruin it?” Chris demands, slamming his hand down on the counter. Sebastian jumps again. “You really think my ego is so fragile I would have fallen to pieces if you’d just  _told_ me that? If you’d said, hey, it’s really expensive but I want to treat us to it?”  
   
“I don’t know,” Sebastian admits miserably. “I didn’t know. You’d just arrived, and I’d missed you so much when we were apart and I didn’t want to risk it.”  
   
Chris shakes his head and wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “What if I’d told people?”  
   
“Told people what?”  
   
He looks at Sebastian, the anger on his face melting away into something that looks like sadness, and that’s so much worse. The center of Sebastian’s chest aches like maybe his heart is actually breaking. “About what a good price you got. What if I’d gone around talking about how we got this fancy suite in Manhattan for cheap, and they’d all know what a place like that would really go for? They’d have  _pitied_ me, thinking I’m fuckin’ white trash from Boston who doesn’t know what hotel suites cost, thinking I’m a god-damn kept man.”  
   
“That is not true,” Sebastian counters, and his voice wavers.  
   
“I knew you had family money, I just, I didn’t think it would affect anything. I thought I could invite you to my parents’ crappy house in the suburbs and not – ”  
   
“Don’t,” Sebastian interrupts, louder than he meant to say it. “Don’t you dare, don’t you  _dare_ act like the fact that my parents are rich means I looked down on yours. I fucking love your family. Your parents’ house was everything I wished I could have growing up in Manhattan. It’s warm and inviting and your family is so loving and accepting, I never for one second thought they were any less than me because they don’t have a 5th Avenue penthouse.”  
   
“Twenty minutes ago I would have believed you,” Chris says, his voice quiet, but peppered with a humorless laugh.  
   
Sebastian feels like his heart stops for a few seconds, and restarts again accompanied by a painful jolt like electrocution. Chris picks up the top page again from the counter, his eyes moving over it, taking in all of Sebastian’s other monthly expenses. He’s ashamed, suddenly, of everything he’s ever bought that goes beyond basic necessities like groceries and toilet paper, and then he’s irrationally angry about it, because he shouldn’t have to feel guilty about spending money when he has money to spend.  
   
“Did you want us to stay in a motel in Jersey?” he asks, sarcasm dripping off the words. “60 bucks a night for bed-bugs and Hepatitis?”  
   
Chris glares at him. “I know you’re not stupid enough to think this is about the money. If you’d said to me that the suite was crazy expensive but you wanted to treat us to it, I probably would have been fine with it. I’m angry that you lied to me. That you think I’m the kind of guy who’d get all sensitive about the fact that my partner earns more than I do.”  
   
“It’s not even my money!” Sebastian interjects. “I bet my salary is almost the same as yours, the rest of it I didn’t earn! It’s not my fault my step-Dad is wealthy!”  
   
Chris ignores him. “I tell you everything.”  
   
Sebastian blinks. “What?”  
   
“I tell you  _everything_ ,” Chris repeats. He sounds heartbroken. “You know it isn’t easy for me to trust people, but I trust  _you_. I tell you all my secrets, all the things I’m ashamed of, all the things other people have done that have left me feeling worthless. I’ve told you how much I struggle with that, how much I have to fight every day to keep from letting it control my life.”  
   
“Chris,” Sebastian whispers. It’s worse than anger, to see him suddenly look so sad. Sebastian feels like he took their relationship and ripped it to shreds with one stupid mistake.  
   
“I let you see me cry, I let you see me fail, and all that time I trusted that you’d love me anyway, because you said you did and I believed you. And all that time, you weren’t doing the same.”  
   
“I trust you,” Sebastian protests, and his voice cracks over the words.  
   
“Do you?” Chris asks, huffing out a disbelieving breath through his nose. “Because while I’ve been cutting myself open and spilling my guts out at your feet since our first date, you’ve been pretending you don’t have nightmares every other week, and avoiding telling me your step-Dad has Alzheimer’s until the last minute when you had no choice, and promising me you’ll tell me what you and your Mom were whispering about in Romanian that day at their apartment and then never bringing it up again and hoping I’d forgotten. I don’t need you to tell me every single thing that’s ever happened to you, but if we’re coming up on six months in a relationship and you’re still keeping important things from me … I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”  
   
It breaks Sebastian, to hear it articulated so brutally clear. Chris is right, about everything, but he doesn’t know what to do with that information any more than Chris does. He realizes, far too late, that the element under the wok has been lit all this time and the stir fry Chris was cooking is burnt. Sebastian reaches over and turns the dial to off. The food isn’t salvageable – the peppers limp and the chicken blackened – but at least he won’t burn his building down. As he looks back up, Chris is walking past him, disappearing out of the kitchen and down the hall toward Sebastian’s bedroom. Sebastian leans over, bracing his elbows on the counter and hanging his head, eyes squeezed shut in an effort to keep the tears at bay. A minute later Chris walks past the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye Sebastian sees him fully dressed, and then hears the door opening and closing as Chris leaves, maybe for good.  
   
He stays, for a long time, standing in his kitchen, leaning over the counter, the smell of burnt meat and soy sauce prickling in his nostrils. Then all at once, his defense mechanisms kick into gear, and Sebastian storms off to his bedroom as well to pick his discarded clothes up off the bedroom floor and put them back on. He doesn’t bother checking himself in the mirror, because it doesn’t matter what he looks like. Nothing matters, he just needs to get out of here. He can’t stay, and clean up from their failed attempt at dinner, and sit on his couch where he’s kissed Chris so many times, and fall asleep in his bed where he’s rarely slept without Chris beside him for months now. He jogs down the stairs, gets into his car, and drives. It’s meant to be an aimless meander around town to clear his head, but he ends up where he should have always known he would end up – at the club where for years before he met Chris, Sebastian spent several nights a week hating himself enough to drink until he was blurry and let a stranger take him home.  
   
“Crown, triple,” he tells the bartender.  
   
The man raises an eyebrow. He has a shaved head and a bushy blond beard. He’s worked here for as long as Sebastian has been a patron, and yet Sebastian doesn’t know his name. It’s the same bartender who’d served them the one time he’d brought Chris here, and a previous one-night-stand had almost started a fist-fight with Chris in the exact spot where Sebastian is currently standing. He should know the man’s name. He should have asked, years ago, and it feels far too late, now.  
   
His Canadian whiskey is poured into a glass, and the man looks up at him as he tips the bottle. “Haven’t seen you in here for months. Were you dying or something?”  
   
“I’ve been dating someone,” Sebastian says. The words feel like razors on their way out of his throat.  
   
“Ah. And now you’re on the rebound?”  
   
“No. I …” Sebastian exhales, and is grateful when the glass is handed over so he can toss half of it back in one swallow and avoid answering the question.  
   
The bartender’s eyebrow’s raise like he’s hoping for a further explanation. Sebastian doesn’t offer one, and he’s left alone as the man moves along the bar to serve a customer at the other end of it. Sebastian stares into the caramel brown of the whiskey in his glass, swirling it around and then sipping at it. Sweet and smoky, just a slight burn on the way down, but still smooth. It’s achingly familiar, adding to the tapestry of familiar his senses are absorbing, in his old haunt. The smell, the way he fits in the barstools, the low lighting, the bad club music. He knows it all so well, even if he hasn’t been here since that night he brought Chris with him and then vowed never to return. He should have known he’d never be able to keep that promise. He orders additional triples until he’s drunk, alcohol pulsing thick and slow through his veins, everything around him fuzzy and much less important than anything seemed when he walked in.   
   
“Hey, Professor.”  
   
Sebastian looks up, having to blink a few times to focus his vision, and sees a familiar face watching him from a few barstools down.  
   
“Jake, not Brian,” the guy reminds, with a crooked smile on his face.  
   
“I remember.” Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. “Sorry about that. I was an ass.”  
   
“Yes, you were.” Jake gets up and comes over, settling with his own drink on the stool next to Sebastian. “But I made a gross joke about your students, so I was an ass too.”  
   
“I guess that’s comforting.”  
   
“So, you got serious with someone?” He nods toward the bartender. “Overheard, earlier.”  
   
Sebastian nods.  
   
“What are you doing here, then?”  
   
“It’s complicated,” Sebastian sighs.  
   
“You have a fight or something?”  
   
“It’s not his fault. I’ve got issues.” Sebastian closes his eyes, but that makes him dizzy so he opens them again.  
   
“Everybody’s got issues,” Jake says, in an understanding way, not dismissive. “You letting him help you with them?”  
   
“Some of them.” It’s the truth, but it doesn’t make him sound very good.  
   
He doesn’t get a reply.  
   
“It’s really not his fault. I love him, I …” Sebastian winces. He doesn’t know why he’s explaining himself, and shouldn’t be saying any of this. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear about that.”  
   
Jake regards him for a moment, and then he says, “do you wanna know why I went home with you?”  
   
Sebastian raises an eyebrow, and Jake laughs.  
   
“Okay, fair. And you’re right, everyone says you’re a fantastic fuck. Not that I’d know.”  
   
“Yeah. Sorry.”  
   
“Don’t worry about it. I just came back here after I left your place and went home with someone else.” Jake shrugs. “I went with you because you have that look. That thing every guy in here is really searching for, if they were honest with themselves.”  
   
“What look?”  
   
“Like you’re someone a person could get some sorta happily-ever-after with. You know that’s what everyone in here wants, right? We’re all here pretending it’s about the sex and the party drugs and having a good time but we’re all really looking for that guy who we could leave this place with and never come back. I’ve seen you working this room, walking around here with every guy on the edge of their seat hoping you’ll pick them, but underneath it you look like a guy who would … I don’t know, take me on a picnic, or hug me really tight after my dog died, or just spend a weekend cuddled up on the couch watching an entire series on Netflix. You’ve got a boyfriend vibe, Sebastian. That’s why everyone wants you. You were the one limiting it to one night, not them. They would’ve jumped at the chance for more if you’d been offering it.”  
   
Sebastian had never for a moment considered any of that. He’s not entirely sure he believes it, but it leaves an uneasy feeling in his gut either way.  
   
“Do what you want, my opinion doesn’t matter. Just seems like if this guy is someone you actually want to give your whole self to … he must be something pretty special.”  
   
“I shouldn’t be here.”  
   
“Probably not,” Jake agrees.  
   
Sebastian looks at him, frowning, but is sincere when he says, “thank you.”  
   
Jake nods, and smiles at him a little as Sebastian gets up, leaves more cash than is necessary on the bar to pay his bill, and stumbles back outside. He finds his car in the parking lot after trying his key a few times on the wrong vehicle. Finally the lock turns, and Sebastian is in a half-squat on his way to lowering himself into the driver’s seat when he gasps, exaggerated and loud, and stumbles backward a few steps. He stares at the steering wheel, panting quick and painful in a way that hurts his lungs as he sharply draws cold air into them.  
   
“Fuck,” he mumbles, scrubbing his hands over his face and then pushing his hair back. He’d nearly,  _almost_ , gotten into his car, in his current state of inebriation. He’d come so close to becoming the very thing that ruined his life for 15 years; the thing that has kept him from opening himself up completely to Chris, the thing that has stopped him for so long from letting anyone in, to the detriment of his own well-being.  
   
He fumbles into his pocket for his phone, taking the only course of action his poison-soaked brain can come up with and tapping Hayley’s number in his recent phone call log. It rings for a long time. It feels like hours, but somewhere deep down Sebastian knows it’s probably less than a minute. She isn’t answering, and he’s resigned himself to the fact he’ll have to walk home, when finally the ringing stops.  
   
Static comes over the line, and then her voice, groggy like she’d been sleeping, answers, “Sebastian?”  
   
Sebastian can’t answer, but a pathetic sob escapes his lips. He claps his hand over his mouth, still staring at the steering wheel of his car through the open door.  
   
“Sebastian?” she repeats, a little more urgently. “What’s wrong?”  
   
“Can you come get me?” he whimpers, slurring and pathetic.  
   
Faint and in the background, Anthony’s voice says, “babe? What’s going on?”  
   
“Where are you?” Hayley asks, ignoring her husband.  
   
Sebastian doesn’t answer, but she discerns it from his silence.  
   
“I’ll be right there.”  
   
More faint background noise reaches Sebastian’s ear, and he faintly hears Anthony asking, “it’s after midnight, he can’t take a cab?” He doesn’t catch Hayley’s answer before the line goes dead.  
   
He drops his phone onto the ground while trying to put it back in his pocket. The screen miraculously doesn’t crack, but Sebastian nearly loses his balance trying to bend down to pick it up. He shoves it into the pocket of his coat once he has it, and then goes back to his car to slam the door shut and lean heavily against it, roughly rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. A short while later, Hayley’s white Kia pulls up near him, and Sebastian walks over to it.   
   
He doesn’t say anything as he gets into the car. He doesn’t look at her either, because he can’t. Her eyes bore into the side of his face for a minute, but then she puts the car back into gear and drives away. They sit in heavy silence for the ten-minute drive – Sebastian realizes far too late by their surroundings that Hayley is heading to her house, not taking him home to his own apartment. He doesn’t argue it. His head is starting to spin, and he’s nauseous, although probably not only from the alcohol.  
   
Pulling into her driveway, she puts the car into park, but doesn’t turn it off or make any move to get out. Even in his compromised state, Sebastian can tell he’s about to be told off, and he braces himself for it. The man he loves already yelled at him; it’s only fitting that Hayley does, too.  
   
But she doesn’t. When she speaks, her voice is gentle. She quietly asks, “what happened?”  
   
It cuts Sebastian to his core that she can tell something happened, although he probably shouldn’t be surprised. She’s always been able to read him like a book. Maybe because she’s the one person he’s never bothered to hide from.  
   
He sniffs. “We had a fight.”  
   
“Couples fight,” she says simply, like it’s that easy.  
   
“We never have.”  
   
“Well you were going to, eventually. What was it about?”  
   
Sebastian stares down at his lap. He can’t look at her, and finds he can’t admit what he did. She’ll be as disappointed in him as Chris was, and he can’t handle that. “Does it matter?”  
   
She huffs. “I suppose not.”  
   
“I haven’t …” It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell her he hasn’t been to the bar in months, as if it would be justification for him being there tonight, as if it could excuse him coming so close to doing the same thing that ruined both of their lives for so long. But then he realizes it isn’t, and lets the sentence fall away.  
   
Waiting a moment for him to continue, and then realizing he isn’t going to, she shuts the car off and gets out of it. He does the same, following her into her house. He feels abruptly starkly sober, even though he isn’t. He follows her through the motions of taking off his shoes and hanging up his coat in her closet, and trailing after her like a lost puppy into the living room. She sits on the couch, and he really looks at her for the first time since she pulled up next to him in the parking lot at the bar. She’s in yoga pants and a zip-up hoodie, her hair is messy, and her face is bare of makeup. It isn’t often anymore that Sebastian sees her like this. There were years where she was his closest human contact, but in the last few months he’s been so consumed with Chris that he’s been neglecting her. He feels badly about that, now, especially since she clearly would still drop everything to come rescue him when his horrible judgement has gotten the better of him.  
   
He sits next to her, and she moves in close enough to him to squeeze his knee in her small hand. “You’ll be alright.”  
   
“You don’t know that.”  
   
“Of course I do. It’s good, that you fought.”  
   
Sebastian snorts. “Yeah, it was lots of fun.”  
   
“I’m not saying it was fun. I’m saying people don’t fight with someone they don’t care about. If he didn’t mean anything to you, you wouldn’t care about this. You would’ve simply run away as soon as something went wrong.”  
   
“Like I always do,” Sebastian surmises gloomily.  
   
“I didn’t say that.” She takes his hand, threading her fingers through his. “I know you love him. A stranger could see it from across a crowded room.”  
   
Before Sebastian can answer, a buzzing between them interrupts. Hayley frowns and takes her iPhone out from her pocket.  
   
“It’s him,” she says, holding the phone up so he can see.   
   
Sebastian doesn’t know how to respond, so he says nothing. Hayley slides her thumb along the screen to answer it.  
   
“Hello Christopher.” Hayley pauses, listening, and then says, “yes, he’s here.”  
   
Sebastian sighs and leans back against the couch cushions. He covers his face with his hands, and doesn’t bother taking out his own phone to check, but if Chris is calling Hayley, it means he’d tried and failed to reach Sebastian. There’s probably a dozen missed calls and texts on his phone from the last half hour. He’s such a jerk, making Chris worry, on top of everything else.  
   
Hayley tilts the phone away from her mouth and addresses Sebastian. “He loves you, and he’s sorry, and he’s worried about you.”  
   
“Yeah.” Sebastian sighs again.  
   
Hayley speaks into the phone again. “Sebastian had a little too much to drink tonight, but he’s alright. He’s going to sleep here.” Another pause, listening to the response, and then she says, “yes you can come get him. Okay. See you soon.”  
   
She sits with him while they wait. She doesn’t push for more information, just holds his hand again as they lean against the back cushions until there’s a soft knock at the door. Hayley gets up to answer it, and Chris appears on the other side. She hugs him after letting him in, wrapping her arms around his neck and lingering in his arms for a long moment before letting him go. Then they both look across the room to where Sebastian is still slumped on the couch – twin sympathetic expressions that make him hate himself even more than he already does. Hayley turns back to Chris and whispers to him, words that Sebastian can hear but can’t make out from so far away. After she stops, she pats his arm and goes into the kitchen to her left, and Chris walks a few steps toward Sebastian with a tragic expression on his face.  
   
“Are you okay?” he asks, when he gets close enough. Sebastian nods. “I’m sorry.”  
   
“No.” Sebastian feels horribly that Chris thinks he needs to apologize. “I’m the one who fucked up, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”  
   
Chris licks his lips, and opens his mouth as if to answer, but then closes it again before any words escape. He looks as lost as Sebastian feels.  
   
Sebastian gets up. He hardly dares to believe his luck, that Chris is here and maybe doesn’t hate him and maybe wants to make up and go back to being in love like they were only hours ago. When he gets close enough Chris reaches out for him, and it breaks the last of Sebastian’s resolve. He stumbles forward and collapses into Chris’s arms. Chris wraps around him, hugging tight around Sebastian’s back, desperation vibrating between them.  
   
“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian breathes.  
   
“I know,” Chris answers, equally as breathless. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”  
   
“I didn’t ruin it?” Sebastian asks, hating how pathetically his voice wobbles, but unable to steady it.  
   
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Chris rubs his back, and kisses the side of his face. “I regretted yelling at you the second I got home.”  
   
“My dears.” Hayley’s voice sounds beside them, and her hand touches Sebastian’s bicep. “I’m going back to bed. You’re welcome to stay here, if you want to.”  
   
As she heads back toward her bedroom, Sebastian pulls back enough to look at Chris. He gets a sad smile in return, and a soft kiss. Chris takes his hand and leads him down the hall, toward the spare bedroom where Sebastian has slept probably literally hundreds of times over the last few years, and where Chris slept with him just before Christmas. He closes the door behind them, and then pulls Sebastian into another hug; a briefer one, this time, just needing to touch him again. Sebastian hugs back, tight and secure and tries desperately to make his brain pay attention to the way Chris clings to him, to turn off the nagging thoughts that he made an unforgivable mistake and Chris is about to break up with him at any moment. The hug doesn’t feel like goodbye, so Sebastian tries not to take it that way.  
   
“I’ll be right back,” Chris tells him, kissing his cheek. “Get undressed, I’ll just be a minute.”  
   
Sebastian nods, and watches him leave. He does as Chris asked, stripping down to his boxers and folding his clothes to lay out on the top of the dresser, and then sitting on the edge of the bed. Chris does come back after only a minute, holding a glass of water in one hand, and some painkillers in the other, both of which he hands to Sebastian.  
   
“Drink,” he says, with a sympathetic smile.  
   
Sebastian swallows the tablets and downs the entire glass, and is too ashamed to tell Chris not to worry because he doesn’t really get hangovers anymore. His system is used to the abuse and he hasn’t been hungover in years. Although, he also hasn’t been properly drunk in months. Not since Thanksgiving. So maybe he’s lost some of his built-up tolerance. Chris takes the glass from him and sets it on the nightstand, and then he strips too, revealing all that pale, freckled skin that still makes Sebastian’s mouth water, even after all this time. He climbs into the bed and Sebastian gets in the other side. For a moment, he’s tentative, until Chris reaches for him like it’s automatic and Sebastian happily lets himself be pulled into strong arms. He pushes his face into Chris’s neck, and Chris kisses his hair and holds him close, gently rubbing his back again with light fingertips.  
   
“Hayley said it’s good we fought,” Sebastian says.  
   
“Oh yeah?”  
   
“She said you don’t fight with people you don’t care about. Said if I didn’t love you I wouldn’t have bothered, I’d have just walked away.”  
   
Chris is quiet for a moment. His fingers keep moving over Sebastian’s skin, across his shoulder blades and down his arm and then back. Eventually, he says, “I never fought with Eric. I was mad at him a lot, but I just swallowed it. It didn’t seem important enough to make a big deal over. Even at the end … I never yelled at him, I never told him he hurt me. I just left.”  
   
Sebastian nods, and has to remind himself why the comparison is being made, because he would hate himself forever if he thought he hurt Chris as much as his ex did.  
   
“Is she always right about everything?” Chris asks.  
   
Smiling a little, Sebastian confirms, “pretty much.”  
   
Chris shifts underneath him, tugging Sebastian in just a little closer, so every available inch of them is pressed together.  
   
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian says again, in a whisper this time. Chris starts to argue, but Sebastian cuts him off. “No, I need to say this. I know you’re gonna say it’s okay, but I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. You didn’t deserve that. I won’t ever do anything like that again.”  
   
After a pause, Chris softly says, “I forgive you. I know your intentions were good. I know you were in a tough spot.”  
   
Sebastian nods, and shuts his eyes when they start stinging.  
   
“Hey, listen,” Chris continues. “The things I said …”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head, his nose brushing Chris’s neck.  
   
“I need to say this, too.” Chris kisses his hair again. “What I said about you keeping things from me. I didn’t mean that, alright? It was a really fucking stupid thing to say, I’m sorry about that. You don’t keep important things from me, you tell me them when you’re ready. I’ve been telling you for months it’s okay to take your time, that I’m here to listen whenever you wanna talk, and then to throw that back in your face was fucked up. I’m really sorry.”  
   
“We both suck,” Sebastian surmises, and is warmed inside when Chris laughs.  
   
“I love you. Love you too much to let something like this matter.”  
   
“I love you, too,” Sebastian whispers, and only partly manages to keep the emotion out of his voice. He’d been so convinced he’d destroyed everything they’ve built with one bad decision, and he’s so relieved to find out he’d been wrong. He falls asleep with Chris underneath him, wrapped around him, holding him close and loving him through his flaws, and is acutely aware of how lucky he is to have this, even if he doesn’t deserve it.  
   
*           *           *


	25. Chapter 25

Chris wakes up with Sebastian warm and sticky against him, his hair stuck to Chris’s cheek and their t-shirts damp in between their bodies where they’re pressed together. He’s overheated, and a little uncomfortable, and a herd of wild elephants couldn’t make him move. He inhales, the mellow smell of sweat and Sebastian’s hair. When he opens his eyes, for just a moment he’s confused about where he is, but then the previous evening floods back into his consciousness, and he sighs and holds onto Sebastian’s sleeping form a little tighter. He’s so angry at himself. He always overreacts, always gets insecure and irrational and lets his emotions get away from him, and this wouldn’t be the first relationship it’s ruined. He likes to pity himself a lot, sometimes, and remember an alternative version of his own history in which he’s been with a string of people who weren’t good to him. In his more honest moments, he knows that’s only half of the story, and in truth he’s a lot to handle. Sebastian’s been handling him, with patience and kindness and more understanding than Chris likely deserves. When Chris thinks back, Sebastian was consoling him over his insecurities on their very first date. Chris wishes he were easier to love.  
   
“Hey,” Sebastian mumbles sleepily. He stretches and then rolls away, onto his back.  
   
“Hey,” Chris answers.  
   
“Stop thinking so loud, I’m try’na sleep.” Sebastian rubs his face over his hands, massaging his eye sockets.  
   
Chris closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Sebastian’s flushed cheeks and bedhead. He’s so soft in the mornings and Chris just wants to pull him back in, but doesn’t know if he should. “Sorry. Didn’t think you could tell.”  
   
“You get all tense, when you’re being mean to yourself in your head.” Sebastian stretches again, and his voice goes small as he adds, “don’t even know why you’d be doing that. When I’m the one who messed up.”  
   
“Thought we agreed we both did.”  
   
Sebastian exhales slowly. “Yeah.”  
   
A fists pounds at the door, and Anthony’s voice calls, “get your asses upright, boys, I’m makin’ pancakes!”  
   
“You think he’s been filled in on all the messy details?” Chris asks, his face heating up in shame as he considers it.  
   
“Yep,” Sebastian answers dully.  
   
“Think he’s gonna make fun of us for being dramatic?”  
   
“Most likely.” Sebastian rolls over and gets up.  
   
Chris lies on his back and stares at the ceiling for another minute, as Sebastian moves around the room, pulling his clothes from last night back on. It takes effort to consider getting up and facing their friends. He hadn’t considered until just now, that Sebastian probably told Hayley the whole story before he arrived here last night, so now everybody knows what a big dramatic deal he made out of something that wasn’t nearly as horrible enough to merit his reaction. He finally does push the blankets back and swings his legs over the side of the bed so he’s sitting, but then stalls again. Sebastian comes over to him and sits next to him, taking the side of Chris’s head in his hand and pulling him in to kiss his hair.  
   
“They’re gonna think I’m an idiot,” Chris mumbles.  
   
“They don’t know,” Sebastian tells him. “Hayley knows we fought, but that’s it. I didn’t tell her what it was about.”  
   
“Oh.” Chris blinks, and exhales. “You could have. You didn’t need to protect me.”  
   
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sebastian reiterates. “This was my fault, Chris.”  
   
Chris doesn’t get to argue before the door is pounded on again, Hayley’s voice this time demanding they get up or miss breakfast. Sebastian stands and goes from the room, leaving Chris alone to get dressed. He doesn’t have any of the things from his bathroom that he’d use in the morning, and he doesn’t want to wash his face with perfumed hand soap, so he just splashes water on it in the guest bathroom and rinses his mouth out. He looks tired, in the mirror, even though he’d slept. Thoughts are still spinning in his head as he combs water through his hair with his fingers – for as angry and hurt as he’d been last night, now he’s angry at himself for  _being_ angry and hurt, and he knows that’s complicated and unhelpful and tries to shut it down before he joins the others.  
   
Because they’re incredible friends, neither of them mention it. Anthony is theatrically flipping pancakes over the stove, Hayley is pouring orange juice into elegant crystal glasses, and they both just smile as Chris walks in and ask how he slept and act like his sleepover had been planned all along instead of borne of a stupid fight and of Sebastian being too drunk to drive himself home. There’s a conversation to be had about that, too, but the time isn’t right. He’s sitting at the table, accepting the mug of coffee Hayley hands him with a smile. Chris sits next to him, squeezing his knee under the table, and the smile Sebastian turns his way is small and non-committal in a way that makes Chris nervous.  
   
“Blueberry or banana?” Anthony asks, bringing over a ceramic platter piled high with pancakes.  
   
“Blueberry,” Hayley and Sebastian say in unison. Anthony uses an oversized fork to dole them out two pancakes each, both dotted with burst blueberries.  
   
“One of each,” Chris requests, and Anthony drops them gracefully onto his plate, and returns the platter to the oven to keep it warm.  
   
“What’s up today, kids?” he asks, as he takes a seat with his own plate, and reaches impolitely across Sebastian to grab for the syrup.  
   
“No solid plans,” Chris answers with a shrug. “I have a giant stack of essays to mark from my first-year class. Might take Dodger to the off-leash park.”  
   
“Sounds better than my day.” Anthony grins at him, gap-toothed and mischievous. “I’m having an ingrown toenail removed.”  
   
Hayley coughs around a mouthful, and then yells her husband’s name in horror.  
   
Anthony cackles, pleased with himself, and Chris laughs with him. “That’s disgusting, thanks for telling us over breakfast.”  
   
“You are my best friends,” Anthony tells him, somehow joking but also deadly serious at the same time. “Avenge me if I don’t make it.”  
   
“I will swear revenge on all podiatrists,” Chris promises, and Anthony holds his juice glass up to clink against Chris’s in thanks for the solidarity. Chris goes back to his pancakes, and glances out of the corner of his eye at Sebastian. He’s eating, staring down at his plate as he does, with no indication on his face that he’s even hearing their conversation, let alone participating in it.  
   
They leave mid-morning, with a round of hugs and thank-yous, and as they get into Chris’s truck, Sebastian tells him they have to go get his car, at the bar where he was a regular before they started dating. He says it in a low, despondent voice, staring resolutely at his hands folded in his lap and not making eye contact. He’d been so quiet over breakfast. Chris lets the new information wash over him, his anxiety just briefly shooting uncomfortable thoughts into his overactive imagination based around his knowledge that the bar was about hooking up for Sebastian before they met. He can shake them away almost as quickly as they come. They’re in a rocky spot right now but Chris trusts him. He drives them across town, and pulls up next to Sebastian’s sedan in the empty parking lot. They don’t speak on the way, and Sebastian starts to get out of the truck without a word, but Chris doesn’t let him. He reaches over grabbing for Sebastian’s hand, squeezing it briefly and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the heel of Sebastian’s palm. He smiles, tries to make it reassuring, and Sebastian smiles back, but it’s forced. He gets out and heads to his own car with his head down.  
   
Chris swallows and closes his eyes for a moment, waiting for Sebastian to get into his car and start it successfully before he starts driving again. Falling asleep last night with Sebastian in his arms in their friends’ spare bed had felt optimistic, but now Chris feels further away from him than ever. Chris drives back to his house, to relieve his neighbor from dog-sitting duty, and expects Sebastian to follow him, but he doesn’t. His car turns left at a light while Chris goes straight, heading back toward his apartment building. Chris tries not to take it personally. He knows Sebastian, like himself, is in his clothes from the night before and likely wants to shower and change and feed his cat. But they didn’t talk about it beforehand, didn’t make a plan for when they’d see each other next, so it still stings like rejection.  
   
Dodger is happy to see him, and his neighbor Linda eyes him up and down with a raised eyebrow. “What’s it called when people turn up the next morning in the same clothes as the night before? The shame walk?”  
   
Chris manages to laugh just a little, even though there’s been a persistent clenching in his chest since Sebastian’s car stopped following his. She’s older, maybe in her mid-seventies, and she’s been in love with Dodger since they met taking their garbage cans to the curb at the same time a month after Chris had moved in. She insisted over and over that she’ll look after him whenever Chris needs, and he’s taken her up on it multiple times since.  
   
When he doesn’t respond further than a half-hearted laugh, her face falls. She reminds him too much of his Mom. “Everything alright, honey?”  
   
Chris licks his lips and nods. “Yeah. I think so.”  
   
With a sympathetic wince that definitely reminds Chris of his Mom, she opens the door a little wider and steps back. “Come in for a cup of tea.”  
   
Chris shakes his head, and gestures to his second-day clothing. “I should head home. Walk-of-shame, and all.”  
   
She waves her hand dismissively. “One cup. I won’t keep you too long.”  
   
Clearly not willing to accept his refusal, she leaves the door open and walks back into her house, and Dodger follows her. Chris sighs and relents, going in after her and shutting the door. She has the kettle on as he gets to the kitchen, and hands him a cookie and orders him to sit at the table.  
   
“Would you like to talk about it?” she asks, with her back to him, rummaging through a cupboard for tea cups. “Doesn’t seem like the good kind of walk-of-shame.”  
   
He folds his hands on the table, and looks at them, not speaking up until she comes over with two steaming cups. She sets one in front of him, and nudges the cookie closer to him on the table.  
   
“Eat.”  
   
Chris picks it up and takes a bite, slowly chewing chocolate chips and icing sugar. When he swallows, he tells her, “I had a fight with my boyfriend.”  
   
Hesitantly, he looks up at her through his eyelashes. Sebastian spends a lot of time at Chris’s house, and met Linda once on the driveway when she brought Chris a bill that had been accidentally delivered to her mailbox, but he’s never explicitly told her who he is, and can never be confident at how people will react.  
   
Linda regards him silently for a moment, but her face is still kind. She asks, “the handsome man who’s always at your house? With the brown hair?”  
   
Chris nods and eats the rest of the cookie in two large bites.  
   
“I figured that’s what he was. Didn’t want to assume, though.” She reaches over and takes his hand for a moment, before letting it go and sipping at her tea. Dodger trots over and curls up at her feet, resting his chin on her slippers.  
   
“It was dumb,” Chris says, looking back at his hands. “We made up last night, that’s where I went off to after I dropped Dodger off. I thought everything was okay. But then this morning it was all weird again, so now I don’t know.”  
   
“Sometimes daylight makes things seem brighter, but other times it just illuminates the mess you’re in,” she says understandingly.  
   
Chris exhales through his nose, and drinks lemon tea from his cup so he doesn’t have to answer.  
   
“You know, I happened to be looking out my window one time when you pulled up. This was back before Christmas. He’d been waiting for you on your front steps, and you ran into his arms.” She smiles, pressing her lips together like she’s trying to contain it. “It looked like it should be happening in slow motion with dramatic music in the background.”  
   
The pressure increases in Chris’s chest. “I’d just gotten home from telling my parents about him. It was one of those moments where you want to yell something from the top of a mountain.”  
   
“I don’t know him, and I don’t know what you fought about, but anyone could see you love him.”  
   
“I do,” Chris says immediately, feeling like it would be the same as denying it if he didn’t affirm it right away. “A lot.”  
   
“Then you’ll be alright.” She smiles again. “My late husband and I used to get into the most ridiculous arguments, we’d both get so frustrated and self-righteous and each so sure we were right, and then we’d realize whatever we were angry over didn’t matter. It’s like that when you really love someone.”  
   
Chris nods again, to get out of admitting he’s scared she’s wrong.  
   
He does shower once he gets back to his house, and lingers for a long time under the hot water with his head tipped forward, letting it cascade over his neck and sooth his tense muscles. His whole body is bright pink by the time he gets out, and he opens the bathroom door to let the cloud of steam out before he brushes his teeth and combs his hair and feels a little bit more human by the time he’s dressed again in fresh sweats and a t-shirt. It’s raining outside when he glances out his bedroom window; the first proper rain since the snow melted, and it feels fitting. When he picks his phone up off his bed, there are texts from Sebastian, and Chris’s heart flips a little in his chest as he opens the message.  
   
 _Sorry I took off like that. Needed to clear my head. Come over if you want._  
   
Chris swallows, and considers it. He lands on a different idea, figuring maybe they need neutral ground.  _I was gonna take Dodger for a walk at East Rock. Meet me there?_  
   
 _It’s raining_ , Sebastian answers.  
   
 _I don’t mind if you don’t_ , Chris sends back, and Sebastian agrees after a minute.  
   
He pulls on a raincoat and a pair of sneakers he doesn’t mind getting wet, and heads out with Dodger next to him in the passenger’s seat. Sebastian lives closer to the park than Chris does, and his car is already in the lot when Chris pulls up. Hooking the leash to Dodger’s collar, he gets out and heads along the main path from the parking lot. It’s deserted, because it’s raining, so it’s easy to find Sebastian, sitting on a bench with a black umbrella in one hand. There’s a grey hoodie under his jacket with the hood up over his hair. It’s one of Chris’s sweatshirts, he recognizes the logo on the front when Sebastian stands up. He is still prone to steal Chris’s clothes, and Chris is prone to let him because he likes the way Sebastian looks in them.  
   
Sebastian smiles apologetically at him as Chris approaches, and leans down to greet Dodger first. “Hey, buddy,” he says softly, gently scratching Dodger’s ears with his free hand. When he straightens up, the umbrella drips onto Dodger’s head and he shakes himself and sends water droplets flying everywhere.  
   
“Is your head cleared now?” Chris asks. It comes out a little more argumentative than he’d intended.  
   
Sebastian winces. “I’m sorry.”  
   
“No, don’t …” Chris sighs and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just wanna know if we’re okay.”  
   
Nodding slowly, Sebastian steps closer to him, lifting the umbrella up a little so Chris can duck under it, too. “Can I …?” he asks tentatively, hesitating with his other hand out like he wants to pull Chris in.  
   
“Of course,” Chris answers, moving in another step and wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s waist. Sebastian cups his cheek and kisses him as raindrops percuss on the umbrella above their heads. A particularly loud drop makes Sebastian jump, and then he drops his head down onto Chris’s shoulder.  
   
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I really … don’t like rain.”  
   
Chris frowns. “You never told me that.”  
   
“It never came up.”  
   
“Fuck, Sebastian. I wouldn’t have asked you to meet me here if I’d known that.” He hugs tighter around Sebastian’s waist. “C’mon, let’s go.”  
   
“You need to walk Dodger.”  
   
“I can toss a ball for him in the backyard once it clears up.” Chris lets go of Sebastian long enough to take the umbrella from him, and put his other arm around Sebastian’s shoulders, pulling him in close and leading him back toward the parking lot.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris’s paternal grandmother always used to say that sometimes everything goes wrong at once as the universe’s way of getting it all done quick like ripping off a Band-Aid. Chris was never sure he believed anything was orchestrated in that way, but a few times in his life he’s experienced her proven right. On Monday, they end up back at Anthony and Hayley’s house, with Hayley teary-eyed on the couch and Anthony pacing angrily back and forth across the living room. There’d been a police shooting over the weekend not far from the Yale campus, unarmed black teenagers as is so often the case lately, and Anthony had gotten fired up about it on twitter and now is facing the consequences. His tweets had blown up, and been blasted on Fox News, and now the school is considering taking disciplinary action.  
   
It’s so wildly unfair, and Chris wants to yell about it along with him, or march right into the university president’s office and make threats of his own, although he knows that wouldn’t do a bit of good. Sebastian has his arm around Hayley, and she’s watching with fear in her eyes as her husband paces and mutters and rubs his hands over his face.  
   
“It’s – ” she begins.  
   
“Don’t,” Anthony snaps. “Don’t tell me it’s gonna be okay, you don’t fucking know that!”  
   
She flinches, and Sebastian tightens his arm around her and glares at him. “It’s not her fault.”  
   
“I’m aware of that, Sebastian!” Anthony returns angrily.  
   
“Then why are you yelling at her?!”  
   
“Because telling me it’s gonna be okay doesn’t help me! And maybe it also doesn’t help to be surrounded by people who don’t understand what it’s like to watch kids who look just like I did die on the streets every fucking week for committing the crime of being black in this fucked up country!”  
   
“That’s not – ”  
   
“Stop it,” Chris interrupts, talking to both of them. He gets up, and takes Anthony by the elbow. “C’mon, let’s get some air.”  
   
Anthony mutters at him to get off, jerking his arm back and out of Chris’s grasp, but he follows Chris outside to the backyard. He swears again once the door is closed behind them, bending over and the waist and making a growly frustrated noise. He looks less angry when he stands back up. “Tell them I’m sorry,” he mumbles, gesturing back towards the house. “I just need a minute.”  
   
“They don’t need you to be sorry. They understand why you’re upset,” Chris tells him gently.  
   
Anthony sighs heavily and swears again under his breath. “It sucks being here sometimes. People back home, they get it. Assholes exist everywhere but for the most part people  _get it_. Here … it’s like some mortal fucking sin to admit that this shit might be real, among all these snooty academics who think they’re too evolved to be racist even though they benefit every day from the system that keeps people like me out.”  
   
Chris nods. “I can see how that would suck.”  
   
“And then,” Anthony continues, laughing even though it isn’t funny, “the fucking administration spends three years parading me around like I’m a shiny new toy, just to prove to the whole world how progressive they think they are, patting themselves on the backs for being willing to lower themselves to hiring a black man, and now when I need them to have my back, they’re letting fucking Tucker Carlson call the shots and thinking about firing me for having an inconvenient opinion.”  
   
“You’re right,” Chris agrees. He sighs too, and shakes his head. “It isn’t fair, at all. You’re  _right_ to be pissed off, man, this … is unbelievably shitty.”  
   
“You know, when I was home over Christmas?” Anthony huffs out a breath as he sits down on the edge of their deck with his legs hanging over the side. “I had cousins and uncles talking shit about how I’m different, now. How I talk different, how I walk around thinking I’m better than them because I’m up here in Connecticut with all these rich people. How I don’t belong with them anymore.”  
   
Chris licks his lips and closes his eyes for a moment before he sits next to Anthony, bumping his shoulder with his own. “That’s not fair, either.”  
   
“I can’t fuckin’ win,” Anthony mutters. “I’m on the outside no matter what.”  
   
“You’re not on the outside with us,” Chris tells him. “ _We_ have your back, even if the university doesn’t. And listen, you’re right. We don’t get it. We haven’t experienced it, so we can’t get it. But you can tell us about it, and we’ll listen.”  
   
“Yeah.” Anthony nods, exhaling slowly and brushing his hands over his hair. “Thanks. I mean that, even if it doesn’t sound like it.”  
   
“Don’t gotta thank me.” Chris bumps his shoulder again. “Friends, right?”  
   
“Yeah.” He smiles a little.  
   
The glass door slides open behind them, and Hayley comes out and sits on Anthony’s other side. “I’m sorry,” she tells him, curling her hand around the back of his neck. “You’re right, platitudes don’t help.”  
   
He shakes his head and tips forward to kiss her, softly returning the apology. Chris pats him on the back and gets up, goes back inside to find Sebastian standing next to the coffee table with his arms crossed and a worried frown twisting his face.  
   
“Is he okay?” Sebastian asks.  
   
Chris shakes his head. “Not really.”  
   
Sebastian nods shortly, and looks away.  
   
They drive home in silence again. Chris is getting tired of feeling like there are a million words floating unspoken between them, but not knowing the right ones to choose.  
   
*           *           *  
   
There’s still something stilted about their interactions, for days afterward. Chris can’t put his finger directly on it, it just isn’t quite the same. Something has shifted. Not so long ago being around Sebastian was magic, was thrilling and comforting and it felt like home, even if they were just watching a movie or spread out at Chris’s dining room table doing their own work next to each other. Chris blames himself for it, because if he looks back, it was his disastrous trip to Montreal that began the shift. Nothing has felt quite the same since. This time, Sebastian seems guarded, like he’s keeping more secrets. He’s quieter and takes longer to think before he answers questions like he doesn’t want to let something slip. Chris is so scared to accuse him of it but equally scared of whatever Sebastian isn’t telling him. As always, he waits. He promised Sebastian he would, so he does, but it’s slowly gnawing away at his insides lately like it never did before, even though he’s known for months that Sebastian has a past he isn’t ready to discuss yet.  
   
On another rainy night, Sebastian is on Chris’s couch with a book in his hands, but he isn’t reading it. Chris has been watching him from across the room, and Sebastian hasn’t turned a page in over five minutes. He’s just holding it, and he keeps glancing outside, at the heavy downpour that splatters onto the windows. Chris goes to him, lowering himself slowly to his knees. Frowning and putting his book to the side, Sebastian sits up a little straighter and tilts his head in question. Chris’s hands travel slowly up Sebastian’s thighs. He’s nervous, heart thudding in his chest, but determined. He has to say this,  _one_ of them has to say it, before they just slowly crumble from the neglect and fade into nothing. “I’m not gonna let this break us, okay?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head, and takes Chris’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What?”  
   
Chris sits back on his heels, making himself even smaller at Sebastian’s feet. He leans forward, touching his cheek to Sebastian’s knee. “I know things haven’t been easy lately.”  
   
Sebastian runs his fingers through Chris’s hair and doesn’t disagree.  
   
“In the back of my mind I kept expecting it,” he admits, in the smallest voice.  
   
“Expecting what?” Sebastian asks. He urges Chris to look up at him with gentle fingers.  
   
Chris does, blinking up into Sebastian’s kind face and worried eyes. “We were so happy.”  
   
Sebastian leans forward to rest his face against Chris’s. “Don’t say that like it’s over.”  
   
“Maybe it’s my fault,” Chris continues, unable to stop now that he’s getting worked up. “Everything was so perfect, when we were together in New York it felt like a movie, like nothing could ever go wrong. And I kept thinking … waiting for the other shoe to drop. My stupid anxiety kept creeping up. I pushed those thoughts away every time they nagged at my brain and that would work for a while, and I’d go back to being happier than I’ve ever been in my life, but then they’d come back. I kept waiting for the moment it would all crash down. So maybe it’s my fault, maybe I made it happen because I was expecting it.”  
   
“Chris.” Sebastian stops him with a slow, warm kiss. “You didn’t do anything wrong.  _Nothing_. You having a few rough weeks because you dealt with something difficult is not your fault. Us having a fight because I did something dumb isn’t your fault either.”  
   
Chris shakes his head. “I overreacted. I was upset about other things and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”  
   
“So we both fucked up, like we’ve already said a dozen times. I’m sorry, too.” Sebastian’s fingers are gentle on his cheek.  
   
Chris nods. He whispers, “you still love me?”  
   
“Of course I do,” Sebastian answers immediately. “I never stopped, not for one second.”  
   
“Me too,” Chris promises him. “And that’s my point. Everything’s been shit, lately, but I’m … I’m still in this, if you are. I don’t want to let this take us down.”  
   
Sebastian moves, sliding down off the couch and into Chris’s lap. He wraps all four limbs around him, and Chris hugs him back. He leans forward, pressing Sebastian into the foot of the couch so he can be as close to him as possible. He always thinks of their first date when Sebastian sits on him like this, of Sebastian climbing into Chris’s lap and kissing him breathless, about how painful it was to push him away. Now Chris doesn’t have to. He could keep Sebastian right here all night if he wanted to, and he has done just that before and will do it again. It calms him to feel protective, and he’s never more at peace than when Sebastian is in his arms.  
   
“I went to the bar,” Sebastian says quietly. The words are muffled against Chris’s shoulder but he can still hear the guilt.  
   
“I know.” He rubs Sebastian’s back gently, wanting to press for more information but holding back; waiting for Sebastian to offer it.  
   
“The night you and I were there, when that guy tried to fight you. As we walked out I told myself I’d never be back.” Sebastian sniffs.   
   
“Tell me what happened.”  
   
“I thought … it was a crutch, for so long. Every time I didn’t want to deal with the shit in my head, I went there. And I took you there because I thought I needed their approval, and then I hated myself for it and swore I’d never go back. And then the first time things went wrong I was right back there, drinking until I needed Hayley to come pick me up in the middle of the night.”  
   
Chris nods, and doesn’t know what to say.  
   
“I have a problem, don’t I?” Sebastian asks, sounding devastated by it.  
   
“I don’t know,” Chris answers honestly. “I can’t really answer that for you.”  
   
“I knew it was a bad habit. I just thought …” Sebastian sniffs again, and stays buried in Chris’s arms. Chris’s legs are going numb but he doesn’t move just yet, won’t until he absolutely has to. The words tumbling out of him are shaky and desperate, as if he’s both trying to get them out and hold them back all at once. “I thought if I was ever actually happy, I’d kick it, and if I never got to be happy then it wouldn’t matter anyway. And I am happy, with you, and I did stop. It worked, until it didn’t.”  
   
Chris nods. He strokes his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, with no idea what to say next. He’s never seen Sebastian engaging in the kind of unhealthy behavior he’s describing, but sometimes Sebastian does keep things from him. Chris shouldn’t have used that as a weapon in their fight, but he wasn’t entirely wrong about it. The fact that he hasn’t seen it doesn’t mean Sebastian hasn’t been doing it.  
   
“What do I do?” Sebastian asks weakly.  
   
It hurts deep in Chris’s chest to admit, “I don’t know that either. I’m sorry.” He keeps rubbing Sebastian’s back, keeps him close and safe, and feels for the first time like maybe this is bigger than something they can handle on their own.  
   
*           *           *


	26. Chapter 26

Sunlight comes in through the window, falling across Sebastian’s face and waking him slowly. His cat makes a soft noise beside him, stretching and rolling closer to ask for scratches. Sebastian drags his fingers through the long fur, rubbing under his soft chin. He’s alone this morning, but not for troublesome reasons. He’d been busy yesterday, a long day of meetings with students and the grad chair about the thesis he’s supervising this semester, and had been worn out by the time he got home. He stretches his arms above his head as Riot crawls onto his chest, purring loudly as Sebastian continues petting him for another few minutes before his bladder makes him move and Riot jumps off with a disgruntled meow.   
   
There’s a text alert from Chris on his phone, plugged in and resting on his nightstand. A simple  _Goodnight I love you_.   
   
Sebastian smiles at it. He’d only sent it just after 10pm but Sebastian had already been asleep. He sends back  _Passed out early. Sorry I missed you. Love you back._  
   
Things with Chris have been better, lately. Not quite back to the way they were before everything went wrong all at once, but improving. Sebastian is confident enough to be cautiously optimistic – or maybe foolish enough. Maybe he just can’t imagine his life without Chris in it, and his brain is protecting him by not allowing him to even consider the possibility. Sebastian doesn’t know where they go from here. He’s uncomfortable every time he thinks about the things he admitted, and embarrassed and ashamed of himself and lost as to what to do about it. Chris is too good, too kind, too understanding. He should probably be yelling at Sebastian, forcing him to talk and making him deal with the things he’s been avoiding for over a decade, but he doesn’t. He just listens, and comforts, and is so unbelievably patient, and it’s a lot more than Sebastian deserves.  
   
He sips coffee at his kitchen table and scrolls through a news feed on his iPad, absorbing the nightmare of current events almost happily, because for once the world’s problems seem easier to accept than his own.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris spends a lot of time with Anthony over the next few weeks. As should have been expected in the fast-paced, attention-deficit world they live in, his speaking out about the shooting was big news for a day or two and then faded away like stories always do, right-wing pundits finding something new to be faux-outraged about and the football coach from Yale who, according to them never deserved the job in the first place, disappears from their short-term memory. It doesn’t make Anthony feel much better about it. He’s happy to no longer be a topic on the national news cycle, and the death threats stop as soon as Fox News moves onto another target, but he’s still left dealing with the fact that the university didn’t stand up for him. Chris goes over to their house fairly regularly, to watch baseball and work out with him and distract him from everything else, and Sebastian is too consumed with his own mess to be a very good friend lately, so at least Anthony has Chris. Sometimes Sebastian thinks they were all a much bigger mess than he realized, before Chris came into their lives, with his kind smiles and his endless compassion and his desire to help everyone around him.  
   
On a Friday, Sebastian is grocery shopping at a locally owned store not far from his apartment. It’s a warm, bright day and he has no meetings scheduled for the afternoon so he leaves work early and walks the short distance from his apartment to the store, enjoying the spring sunshine. It wasn’t supposed to rain. The sky had been clear and brilliantly blue when he’d left, and he’s in the store for less than a half hour. A storm blows in unexpectedly, darkening the world outside and flooding the sidewalks. Thunder rolls in overhead, even though it’s barely April and it’s too early for thunderstorms. Sebastian stands just inside the automatic doors, reusable grocery bags in his hands, staring out at the street.  
   
For a moment, he can’t breathe. Lightening flashes, and thunder booms loud and violent, and Sebastian ducks like he’s trying to avoid being struck by something invisible. He backs up into the wall, desperately trying to stay calm, to just wait it out, to not spiral in a public place. He gets a few odd looks from other customers as they walk by, either coming in dripping and grimacing or exiting the store and bracing themselves to get wet on their way back to their cars. Sebastian can’t. He can’t be out in rain; he's managed all these years to mostly keep it together if he’s indoors during a thunderstorm, but he can’t be out in it. Meeting Chris in the park in a light drizzle had been hard enough, and that time Sebastian had brought an umbrella so at least he stayed dry. If he goes outside now, he’ll be soaked right through his clothes in minutes. He wouldn’t survive it, he’d panic and break down and end up back in a psych ward and he swore to himself the day he was released that he’d rather die then ever be back there again.  
   
It doesn’t end. Sebastian waits, struggling to regulate his breathing, for five minutes, and then ten, and then 20, and the freak storm rages on. His chest aches and his head pounds, and he’s gripping the handles of the bags so tightly he can’t feel his fingers. Finally he has no choice, one of the cashiers keeps eyeing him suspiciously and there is no way to explain this to the cops if they’re called to make him leave. He phones Hayley, blinking tears from his eyes as he begs her to come get him.  
   
She agrees so readily, and Sebastian doesn’t deserve her  _or_ Chris. She’s there ten minutes later, just as the cashier inside looks to be getting the manager and asking what they should do about the grown man having a nervous breakdown in their place of business. Hayley pulls right up to the doors, ignoring the sign instructing cars not to stop there. She hurries inside, her face pale and her expression grim but wordlessly taking Sebastian’s grocery bags and loading them into her backseat and then coming back for him, holding a coat over his head to keep him dry as she ushers him to her car. She drives off without even looking at him, yielding back into traffic and heading down the street. Sebastian can’t look out the window at the wet pavement and the raindrops cascading down onto it. He tries to look anywhere else, but catches everything in his peripherals, so instead he leans forward and buries his face in his hands so he doesn’t have to see.  
   
The rain has slowed by the time Hayley’s car is pulling into her driveway, but she still covers Sebastian with her jacket on their way into her house, and then takes him down to the basement where they can’t see or hear the outside world as clearly. Sebastian collapses onto the floor against the wall, his knees just giving out and sending him tumbling down onto the carpet, and she goes with him, pulling him into her arms and hugging him so tightly.  
   
“It’s too early for thunderstorms,” he says tearfully, into her shoulder. “I wasn’t ready.”  
   
“I know,” she murmurs. He breathes heavily against her, trying to slow his racing heart, and after a moment, she says, “Chris doesn’t know, does he?”  
   
It’s a question, but it isn’t. She knows the answer already. If Chris knew, Sebastian would have called him for help instead of bothering her again. He shakes his head, confirming it.  
   
“Why?” she implores, sounding desperately sad.  
   
“I can’t,” Sebastian breathes, squeezing his eyes shut against the churning in his gut that leaves him nauseous. “I keep trying to tell him and the words won’t come.”  
   
“You have to,” she says. “Sebastian, you  _have_ to. I know how hard that conversation is, you know I do. But he has to know. Sooner or later he’s going to do something to make it worse because he doesn’t know, think of how horrible he’ll feel if that happens. He loves you so much, he’ll just want to help you.”  
   
“I don’t think he can.” Sebastian shakes his head again. “I’m too fucked up.”  
   
“You haven’t even let him try,” she reasons. Her voice wavers, and Sebastian would bet there are tears in her eyes as well, but can’t lift his head up to look.  
   
“Did telling Anthony help you?” Sebastian asks.  
   
“Of course it did.” She rubs his arm. “It didn’t make everything go away. He was my brother, I’ll never get over what happened. But letting people in when they’re someone who loves you  _helps_ , even if it doesn’t erase the past.”  
   
“I almost drove,” he admits miserably. “The other week when you picked me up at the bar. I called you just after almost getting into my car.”  
   
“Sebastian,” she sighs.  
   
“I know.” He feels for a moment like he’s about to throw up, and swallows thickly to keep it down. “I almost fucking did the same thing that ruined our damn lives. I could’ve done it to somebody else.”  
   
She’s quiet for a moment, stroking his upper arm as the waning thunder rolls quietly above their heads. Finally, she says, “we can’t keep doing this, my darling. We can’t keep pretending you’re okay when you’re not. You need to get some help.”  
   
“I know,” he repeats. It puts a pit in his stomach and an unbearable ache in his heart but he knows she’s right.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian stands on Chris’s doorstep for five full minutes before he knocks. He raises his fist three times and lets it fall back down to his side before he finally manages to rap on the door with his knuckles. He has to do this. He wants Chris to know him, to know everything. But he’s worked and fought and struggled to build a life for himself out of the ashes, and he isn’t always okay, but he mostly gets by. He considers his career successful. He’s been hopeless at romantic relationships, but he has good friends. He’s managed to become a person he doesn’t entirely hate when he looks in the mirror. The idea of reopening old wounds, that might take as long to close as they did the first time, is terrifying.  
   
The door opens to reveal Chris in a hoodie and no pants, his hair messy and a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. His expression brightens instantly when he sees Sebastian. “Hi!” he says happily, the words muffled around a mouth full of foamy toothpaste.  
   
“You answer the door in your underwear?” Sebastian asks, raising his eyebrows.  
   
“Only on special occasions. Come in!” Chris steps back to let him enter. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”  
   
He disappears up the stairs. Sebastian puts his hand out so Dodger will come over and say hello, and spends a minute scratching his ears. Then he steps out of his shoes and removes his jacket, making his way to the couch. He puts his hands in his pockets, and then takes them out; his feet up on the coffee table and then back down on the floor. Nervous energy makes him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He’s just in the middle of thinking maybe it isn’t too late to make up some excuse, when Chris comes back down and joins him. He plops down beside Sebastian, smiling that big, joyful smile at him.  
   
“This is a nice surprise, didn’t think I’d see you until later tonight.” He reaches for Sebastian and kisses him, minty and sweet, and Sebastian chases after his lips, wanting the warmth and the comfort and the feeling of Chris against him. He turns up the heat on it because he’s so close to breaking and Chris has been his anchor. Chris laughs, low and quiet. “Oh, so it’s that kind of pop-in.”  
   
“No, it …” Sebastian shakes his head, and wishes it was. “Isn’t.”  
   
Chris frowns, and holds Sebastian’s hands. He realizes they’re shaking. “What’s going on?”  
   
Sebastian tries to speak but the words don’t materialize. His jaw trembles and he can’t look Chris in the eye.  
   
“Seb.” Chris’s voice switches from confused to tremored with fear.  
   
Sebastian manages to nod. “I gotta tell you something.”  
   
“Tell me what?”  
   
Sebastian opens and closes his mouth when once again the words don’t come. He’s tried, so many times, to tell Chris, and he never can. It’s like the words get stuck in the back of his throat and no matter what he does, he can’t force them out. Instead, he crawls into Chris’s lap. Hating himself, hating feeling as weak and childish as he does right now, but unable to resist. Chris’s lap has become his favorite spot in the whole world, it’s safe and warm and he feels loved when Chris’s arms are around him. Sebastian straddles him, pressing a knee into either side of Chris’s hips, settling onto his thighs and hunching over, burying himself in Chris’s chest. Chris’s strong arms go around him instantly, hugging him close.  
   
“Baby,” he whispers.  
   
“Don’t let go,” Sebastian mumbles, pathetic.  
   
“I won’t,” Chris reassures. “Is this … the thing?”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head; not to say no, but to say he can’t answer.   
   
Chris’s left hand goes into his hair, fingers stroking gently through it. Sebastian grew it out longer just so Chris would have more to pet through. “Okay, I’m here.”  
   
Sebastian pushes his face into Chris’s shoulder, trying to crawl right into his skin so he doesn’t have to exist anymore as a separate entity. Chris has been so open with him, so willing to just let Sebastian right into the softer spots of his heart and the darker corners of his mind, and Sebastian has been hiding from him for so long, and even now that he’s come here with the specific intent of breaking that cycle, he’s second guessing whether he’ll be able to. He realizes his eyes are wet again and tries to blink it away, but Chris is too sweet underneath him, whispering soothing things to him, rubbing his back and petting his hair and knocking all Sebastian’s walls over.  
   
“I never liked cuddling,” Sebastian says. It isn’t what he wants to say or what he means to say, but it’s what comes out. “Outside of … the immediate aftermath of sex. I never liked it like this, fully clothed and not going anywhere.”  
   
Instead of responding, Chris runs his nose along Sebastian’s temple, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.  
   
Sebastian swallows and squeezes his eyes shut tight, even though Chris couldn’t see them anyway even if he left them open. “Always felt. I don’t know. Intimate, in a way that scared me. Sex is easier. People just … everybody wants the same thing. It can be mindless if it needs to be. It can be physical and detached from everything else. But this … letting somebody know you …”  
   
“I’m so honoured you let me know you,” Chris says, and Sebastian can hear the sincerity in his voice.  
   
“You don’t know everything.”  
   
“I don’t need to know everything. I know who you are. That’s enough, until you’re ready to talk.”  
   
“I want you to know everything.” Sebastian sniffs, and turns his head so his lips brush Chris’s neck. “I … I haven’t felt that with anyone, since …”  
   
Chris exhales against him, and his arms tighten around Sebastian. “I knew someone hurt you.”  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “Not the way you think.”  
   
“What do I think?”  
   
“I like it with you,” Sebastian says, still dodging the questions. “Sitting like this. Or having you in my lap instead, or whatever other variations.”  
   
“I love it,” Chris whispers to him, against the shell of Sebastian’s ear. “Having you in my arms is my favorite thing in the world. And I’ve got a lot of favorite things when it comes to you, but this … this is the best one.”  
   
Sebastian wants to stay there forever, but he can feel his resolve slipping with each pass of Chris’s hand through his hair. He climbs off of Chris’s lap and sits next to him instead. Chris doesn’t let him move far away, shifting so he stays pressed against Sebastian’s side.  
   
“Something happened, when I was an undergrad in Providence.” The words quiver on their way out of his mouth. “And I don’t talk about it very much, but I need to tell you. I need you to know.”  
   
Chris is still for a few seconds, and then he lifts Sebastian’s hands up to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “I’m listening.”  
   
“I had a boyfriend. He was a bio major. Really smart. He wanted to work with African mammals, like on a wildlife reserve. He loved tigers the most. We … he was Hayley’s younger brother. He lived on my floor, a few doors down from me in the dorms. We met at a party during my second year there, before Hayley got a chance to introduce us. We were both gay but we’d never told anyone, I don’t remember how that came up in conversation but it did, and he was just like me. He knew who he was, but he was scared of how people would react.”  
   
“I get that,” Chris says, and Sebastian knows he does.  
   
“The very next morning I told Hayley. We’d been best friends for a year already at that point and I felt guilty every day that I was keeping it from her.”  
   
“Let me guess, she hugged you and said she already knew and loved you exactly the same, and you both cried,” Chris says, smiling bigger now.  
   
For just a moment Sebastian feels like he’s the Grinch in that scene where his heart grows three times bigger and breaks the measuring device. He remembers exactly how amazing she’d been in that moment, and the fact that Chris assumes without knowing that she’d been amazing makes Sebastian vibrate with momentary happiness in a hard conversation. “She wasn’t thrilled at first I’d kissed her brother. But then she got over it and was happy for us.”  
   
Chris nods.  
   
Sebastian falls silent for a moment. He doesn’t know how to tell this story, because he never has. Everyone who knows it, knows because they were around at the time. He’s never retold it to someone who has no prior knowledge of what happened.  
   
Chris moves in a little closer. He puts his arms sideways around Sebastian, resting his forehead against Sebastian’s hair, and kisses his cheek. “What did he do to you?”  
   
“No. No, he didn’t … fuck, no.” Sebastian brings his arm up to tangle his fingers in Chris’s hair, grounding him to the moment. “He died.”  
   
“Oh. Oh God,” Chris groans. “I’m so sorry. Baby, I’m …”  
   
“No, it’s – you didn’t know.”  
   
Chris drops his head down to rest on Sebastian’s shoulder, pushing his face into Sebastian’s neck and hugging him so tightly. “What happened?”  
   
Sebastian takes a deep, rattling breath. “We were together about six months. He was my first … everything, really. I’d kissed a few girls in situations, like … I don’t know, because somebody dared me to, or playing spin the bottle at high school parties. But that never felt like it counted, because they didn’t necessarily actually want me to kiss them just because the bottle landed on them.”  
   
“And you didn’t like girls,” Chris adds, gently.  
   
“Yeah. I knew that then, too, but. You wanna fit in.”  
   
“Of course.”  
   
“With him, suddenly everything clicked. I was pretty madly in love with him. He said he was, too. And I was so close with Hayley, and it was all so …” Another breath, and belatedly Sebastian realizes there are still tears on his face. They must have been falling for a while, because Chris notices too. He sits up and wipes them away, kisses Sebastian’s damp cheeks, and then pulls him in. Sebastian allows himself to be tipped over and wrapped up like a little kid, finding a safe spot against Chris’s chest.  
   
“Take your time,” Chris whispers to him, lovely and understanding, rubbing his big palm slowly up and down Sebastian’s back. “It’s okay.”  
   
“We were in my car. It was late, raining. This crazy, scary thunderstorm. Guy in a truck ran a red light. Just plowed right through the intersection like he didn’t even see it. We found out later he was drunk.”  
   
“God,” Chris breathes. “That’s so, so awful.”  
   
“I had whiplash and a broken wrist and some cuts that needed stitches, but Andrew …” Sebastian shudders, remembering it, like something out of a horror movie, with broken glass and shredded skin and cold, dead eyes staring at him. Head bloody on the wet pavement, bones poking through gaping wounds. And rain. Heavy and freezing, persistently pounding down onto him as he screamed and cried and desperately tried to bring Andrew back to life. “The truck hit on the passenger’s side. He was dead on impact. They told me that, later. I didn’t know at the time, so I tried to save him anyway. Tried to do CPR, even though I didn’t really know how, and my arm was broken, and … there was so much blood. I remember my hands shaking so much I couldn’t tell if he had a pulse, ‘cause my fingers wouldn’t stay still long enough to feel it. I felt like my heart was gonna stop. And then when the ambulance got there and they said he was gone … I wished it had.”  
   
Chris makes a soft, strangled noise above him, and his fingers clench in a gathered handful of Sebastian’s shirt.  
   
Tears flowing freely now, and a painful lump stuck in his throat that makes it difficult to breathe properly, Sebastian forces himself to keep going. “At the funeral, their Mom told me if he’d been dating a nice girl like he was supposed to, he’d still be alive. We were coming home from a gay bar. Hayley was so upset. She still doesn’t visit her parents very often. I don’t think she’s ever gotten over that.”  
   
“She’d lost a child. She didn’t mean it.” Chris’s voice sounds wrecked.  
   
“I don’t fault her, now. I understand it came from grief. But at 19 … I tried to kill myself a week later. My Mom had some prescription-grade painkillers in the medicine cabinet left over from knee surgery she’d had the year before. I stole them and took them all with as much vodka as I could swallow before passing out. The next day I woke up in the hospital.”  
   
Chris says nothing, and just hugs him.   
   
“I had to stay there for a long time, with all these strangers trying to tell me it wasn’t my fault.”  
   
“They were right.”  
   
“I know. I just didn’t want to hear it. I kept thinking … what if they’re wrong, what if I was actually the one who ran the light? What if he loved me and he trusted me, and I killed him?”  
   
“The person who made the choice to get behind the wheel when they were drunk is the person who killed him. You tried to save him.”  
   
“I couldn’t.” A fresh wave of tears overtakes him, and Chris grips him harder. “I tried. He was already gone.”  
   
“It’s not your fault,” Chris says harshly, urgently; like he’ll die if he can’t make Sebastian believe it.  
   
For another minute, Sebastian lets himself be cradled and comforted. Then he sits up, removing himself from Chris’s arms, and wiping at the leftover wetness on his face. He’s practiced at shutting down, at allowing himself brief moments to feel and then turning it off like a switch, and it’s all he wants to do right now. He has to fight not to. He turns to look, and finds Chris’s face as red and splotchy and tear-streaked as he’s sure his own is. He’s sure he’s a mess and has never looked less attractive in all the time they’ve known each other, and he miraculously finds that he doesn’t care.  
   
“I’ve never told anyone that before. Lots of people know it happened, but I’ve never told anyone who didn’t already know. And … even Hayley doesn’t know I attempted suicide. I begged my parents not to tell her. She thought they kept me out of school for three weeks just so I could process everything, she didn’t know I was in a psych ward all that time. When I got back … we cried a lot together about Andrew, but I never told her the other stuff.”  
   
Chris sniffs but he smiles a little, sad and watery, but genuine, like he always is. He slides his hand over Sebastian’s hair, leaning in and kissing his lips and then staying close, their faces touching and his breath warm against Sebastian’s cheek. “Thank you so much for telling me. For trusting me with this.”  
   
“I do trust you.”  
   
“I’m so happy to hear that. And so devastated by … everything else.”  
   
“Most of the time I can cope alright.”  
   
“What do you do, when you can’t?”  
   
“Nothing constructive.” Sebastian laughs at himself, hollow and humorless. “Drink until I forget. Or pick up a guy at the bar and don’t bother learning his name. Maybe ‘cope’ is too strong a word.”  
   
Chris nods, his other hand squeezing Sebastian’s thigh. There’s nothing judgemental about the energy coming off him. He just understands. It’s such a soothing, healing feeling, to be understood.  
   
“I don’t wanna do that anymore. Either of them.”  
   
“Do you ever get low enough that you wanna hurt yourself again?  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian admits shamefully. “I’ve never tried again. But I’ve wanted to.” He leans into Chris, letting Chris’s strong frame take his weight, letting someone else hold him up. “I’m not so good when it rains. Especially thunderstorms. Takes me back to that night.”  
   
“You got caught in it this afternoon, didn’t you?” Chris asks sadly, understanding without Sebastian having to spell it out what brought on this sudden but overdue burst of honesty.  
   
Sebastian nods. He tries to keep the self-derision out of his voice as he answers, “I got stuck at a store. Hayley had to come get me. I have a thing about getting wet … it’s stupid.”  
   
“It’s not stupid.” Chris lifts his shirt, reveals his stomach, and nods toward the tattoo of curvy letters over his ribcage. “His name was Matt. He was my best friend in high school, he died in an off-roading accident.”  
   
Sebastian reaches out and touches it. It isn’t anywhere close to the first time he’s done that, but he’s never asked about it before. He always knew Chris would tell the story when he was ready.  
   
“It isn’t the same. I wasn’t in love with him, and I wasn’t there when it happened. But I still know,” Chris says. “I know what it’s like to lose someone, and to carry them with you.”  
   
Sebastian continues touching for just a moment. Then Chris drops his shirt, and Sebastian leans back against him. “Please don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t need people feeling sorry for me.”  
   
“I wouldn’t, ever. Every secret you tell me stays between us,” Chris promises.  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“But you should tell Hayley,” he continues, gently kissing Sebastian’s forehead and rubbing his thumb over Sebastian’s jaw. “About the piece of it she doesn’t know.”  
   
Sebastian has known that for his entire adult life. It’s almost always nagging at him in some capacity, clawing at the back of his mind like a burrowing insect, and every year that goes by where he doesn’t, it gets harder to imagine how he would even bring it up without devastating her and maybe destroying their friendship. “I should have told her when it happened. I have no idea how I would do it now, after so long.”  
   
“She’s your best friend in the world and you’ve been keeping a really important secret from her for 15 years.” Chris’s voice is soft and so kind, still so understanding, and it breaks Sebastian’s heart. “You gotta tell her, Seb. She deserves to know.”  
   
He nods, and doesn’t answer. He can’t, just now. Chris drops it, and doesn’t bring it back up. He just holds Sebastian close, lets him cry a little more, cries with him. As the sun sets, Chris takes him upstairs and pulls him into bed, kissing him softly. At Sebastian’s pleas, Chris opens him up gently and slides into him, trapping him safely between the mattress and his big body, surrounding him, consuming him from the inside. Sebastian breaks apart in his arms, letting Chris hold all his shattered pieces together.  
   
*           *           *  
   
He tells Hayley the next day, at his apartment. She just looks at him, as he admits to the pills and the alcohol and the hospital stay. He’s expecting shock, or confusion, or disbelief, but he gets none of it. She only stares, her eyes unreadable, until her jaw quivers and suddenly tears are streaming down her cheeks. She gasps and covers her mouth with a trembling hand, shoulders shaking, and Sebastian rushes to her side.  
   
“I’m so sorry,” he mutters regretfully, loathing himself for hurting her. “I should have told you a really long time ago.”  
   
“I’d started to think you never would,” she says, and that makes no sense.  
   
Sebastian frowns. “You … what?”  
   
“It’s been 15 years. I really didn’t think you were ever going to tell me at this point.”  
   
“You …” Sebastian’s sluggish mind tries to piece what she’s saying together, to force the fragments to fit together when they don’t want to. “You  _knew_?”  
   
“Of course I knew. Did you really think your parents would just send you back to school after something like that, without a safety net in place? Without some kind of a – a system for making sure you were okay?”  
   
Sebastian blinks and realization dawns on him, slow as molasses. “My Mom promised me she wouldn’t tell you, and instead she  _employed_  you to keep an eye on me. After you’d lost your brother.”  
   
She looks at him, her eyes red and desperately sad. “They were so worried you were going to try it again.”  
   
Sebastian leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands over his face. Flashes of his life in those first few years after it happened come back to him, and things that confused him at the time suddenly begin to make such crystal-clear sense that he can’t believe he never figured it out. “That time in grad school … I had a rough couple of weeks … and then Mom just showed up out of nowhere, and set herself up on my couch and didn’t leave for a  _month_.”  
   
Hayley emits a broken sob, and Chris abruptly gets up and crosses the room, sitting on her other side and putting his arm around her.  
   
“I was convinced she was leaving my Step-Dad, or that he was hitting her or something!” Sebastian cries. “Because I kept asking her over and over why the fuck she was suddenly living on my couch and she wouldn’t tell me!”  
   
“I’m sorry,” Hayley whimpers, crying so hard she’s difficult to understand. “You were drinking too much and you kept saying all these awful things about wanting to give up … you were scaring me. And I tried to talk to you about it and you’d just say I didn’t understand. I was so terrified I was going to find you dead in the bathtub.”  
   
“So you called my mother to come babysit me?”  
   
“Seb,” Chris says. It’s gentle, but it’s a plea, and when Sebastian looks at him, Chris’s face overtop of Hayley’s head is imploring with him to react any way other than the way he is.  
   
“Somebody needed to watch you, to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself,” Hayley continues. “I knew you wouldn’t have let me crash on your sofa night after night without an explanation. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t lose you, too.”  
   
Emotion swells hot and painful in Sebastian’s chest, climbing up the back of his throat until he has to supress his gag reflex. It spins in his head like a cyclone, and he reaches for her with shaking hands and tears in his eyes. “Hales,” he murmurs.  
   
Chris hands her over, transferring her weight over to Sebastian and he hugs her and tries to keep from completely breaking down himself, and feeling lower than dirt for everything he put her through.  
   
“I’m sorry,” she says again, tears slowing but still sounding devastated.  
   
“Don’t,” Sebastian breathes, shaking his head and burying his face in her hair. “I’m sorry. I should have told you right away. And my  _Mom_  shouldn’t have made you my lifeguard. You didn’t deserve to have that put on you at 19.”  
   
“I just wanted you to be okay.”  
   
“Every time I was, it was because of you.”  
   
He spends another evening teary and forcing himself to let painful secrets out into the open where they sting, until Chris calls Anthony to come get Hayley. She’s too upset to drive, and it’s the worst part of all of this. Sebastian could have handled his own hurting. He’s been handling that for 15 years. Knowing how badly he hurt her on top of everything she’d already been going through is too much.  
   
“Call us in the morning,” Chris is saying as he walks Hayley and Anthony to the door.  
   
“We will.” Anthony claps Chris’s hand in his and gives him a one-armed hug.  
   
Hayley sniffles as Anthony puts his arm back around her, and Sebastian turns to face the window because he can’t watch anymore. As they leave, he distinctly hears Hayley say, “Take good care of him,” and Chris promises.  
   
Sebastian clenches his jaw against a fresh wave of tears that feels like the millionth he’s cried in just two days. He can’t believe there’s enough liquid left in him to cry again. He tries to stop it but everything is too raw and so close to the surface. The people he’s hurt. The person he lost. The terror of that night, still fresh in his mind even after all these years. The memory of the night he’d sobbed uncontrollably as he swallowed half a bottle of pills, devastated and blaming himself and so sure he didn’t deserve to live anymore. The handful of nights in the years that followed where he’d been dangerously close to that low again; to seeing no way forward and nothing to live for and just so desperately wanting the pain to stop. He grieved for Andrew but he never grieved for himself. He never grieved for the person he was, that kid full of life and light and dreams for the future, who let people into his heart with no fear they would leave and take pieces of it with them, over and over until he had nothing left. That kid also died that night on the pavement in the rain.  
   
Chris is behind him, touching Sebastian’s shoulders, resting his face on the back of Sebastian’s head. It all overwhelms him again and spills over, and Sebastian turns, hugging his arms around Chris’s back, clinging to him, breaking against his shoulder. Sobs shudder through him, cleansing and horrible, and Chris holds him tight and whispers to him things that Sebastian’s ears can’t hear over his own pathetic weeping but his heart understands all the same. There’s no good reason this man should still want to be in his life after the last two days but against all odds he’s here, strong and whole against him, holding Sebastian up when everything else is hell-bent on knocking him down.  
   
*           *           *


	27. Chapter 27

Sebastian is already awake when Chris’s body tugs him gently from sleep the next morning. He blinks slowly, opening his eyes to find Sebastian’s face on the pillow next to his, looking at him. A soft frown wrinkles his forehead, and his eyes are puffy, and Chris is sure his are too. Unavoidable, when you spend hours crying right before going to sleep.  
   
“Morning,” he says. And then, because it feels important in this moment, he adds, “love you.”  
   
Sebastian just nods. A tear slips from the eye closest to the pillow and runs down his cheek; probably just because he’s lying down, Chris’s eyes do that too sometimes, but it still tugs at Chris’s fragile heartstrings. Seeing him so shattered and helpless and in so much pain had hurt in Chris’s chest like a knife wound. He thinks back to the man he met, nearly eight months ago, in the teacher’s lounge. To the sunny day Sebastian had shown him around campus, to his warmth and his kind smile and his musical laugh. It makes Chris feel dizzy, even though he’s lying down, to think about all the pain locked up inside that man, and to know he’d keep it there for so long, even as they were giving each other all the other pieces of themselves.  
   
He moves in closer so he can get Sebastian back in his arms, where he’d been when they fell asleep. Chris knows neither of them can control it while unconscious, but he hates that Sebastian had moved away from this spot in the night. He hopes it was Sebastian who rolled over, and not Chris who let go. Sebastian tucks himself under Chris’s chin, and Chris rests a leg over Sebastian’s knees, keeping him in as close as possible. For a long time, they just lie together, and breathe.  
   
“How are you feeling?” he asks eventually.  
   
“Head hurts,” Sebastian answers.  
   
“Mine too, a little bit.” Chris rubs his back slowly, feels Sebastian warm and relaxed in his arms and is thankful for that, at least. They’re facing an uphill battle but Sebastian against him like this makes it all seem a bit more manageable.  
   
“Would you … go with me?” Sebastian asks in a tiny voice. “If I made an appointment to talk to someone about all this?”  
   
“Of course,” Chris says automatically. He slides his hand over Sebastian’s cheek, urging his head up so he can press a slow kiss to Sebastian’s lips. “Baby, of course I will.”  
   
“They made me talk to a psychiatrist, at the hospital.” Sebastian sniffs. “I just said what I thought she needed to hear so she’d let me go. They gave me antidepressants but I never took them.”  
   
“You didn’t deserve any of this,” Chris whispers to him. “Certainly not as a teenager. I wish I’d met you sooner.”  
   
“I can’t stop picturing him. I worked so hard to get the image out of my head and now it’s all I can see. Covered in blood and torn up and his blank eyes.”  
   
Chris hugs him tighter. “I can’t even imagine.”  
   
“Your friend … the one who died. Did you blame yourself?”  
   
Chris nods. “All the time. I used to go off-roading with him, I don’t even remember why I wasn’t there that day but I always thought if I was … maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”  
   
“What do you do, when you think that?”  
   
“Try to remind myself it’s not true. That things just happen sometimes, and we can’t control everything.”  
   
“If I hadn’t taken him to that stupid bar …”  
   
“But you did.” Chris combs gentle fingers through Sebastian’s hair. “That doesn’t make it your fault he’s gone.”  
   
“Hayley never blamed me. I always thought she should have. If we’d never met, she’d still have her brother.”  
   
“She loves you, so much,” Chris tells him. “She never blamed you because it wasn’t your fault.”  
   
Sebastian doesn’t answer.  
   
“I saw a therapist, in California. About my anxiety. It helped, it never goes away completely, but it was better, when I was dealing with it. I should make an appointment, too. So I don’t have more panic attacks in Canada.”  
   
“I’ll go with you, too. If you want.”  
   
“I’d love that.”  
   
They fall back into comfortable silence, Sebastian still burrowed in Chris’s arms and Chris slowly rubbing his hand up and down Sebastian’s spine over his t-shirt. Hayley had said she would come back in the morning, and after a while Chris hears movement outside of the bedroom, keys in the lock and footsteps on the floor. A moment later there is a soft knock at the bedroom door, just before it opens a crack, not enough for her to see inside in case they’re undressed but enough for her voice to carry in.  
  
“Are you awake?” she asks quietly, clearly hoping not to disturb them if they aren’t.  
   
“Yeah, Hales, c’mon in,” Sebastian answers, his voice muffled a little against Chris’s chest.  
   
He can see the door, and watches as it opens and she steps inside, hair messy in a pony-tail, casual leggings and a sweatshirt that looks like it’s probably Anthony’s, the way it droops off her shoulders and bunches around her wrists.  
  
“Oh.” Hayley’s eyes fill with tears when she sees them tangled together. She puts a hand to her mouth. “And here I thought I could go 20 minutes without crying.”  
  
Sebastian reaches behind himself and lifts the blankets, inviting her to join. She does; settling on his other side and cuddling up to his back. She kisses his cheek and pulls the blankets over herself, and for another few moments she and Chris bracket Sebastian like bookends. Her hand rubs his arm, palm moving slowly up and down his bicep.  
   
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian says eventually, for the dozenth time, quiet and broken into Chris’s chest.  
   
“Please be kind to yourself,” she whispers to him. It’s exactly what Chris wanted to say, maybe not in words but in sentiment, and he loves her for it.  
   
Chris gives Sebastian a little squeeze, and then nudges him toward Hayley. “I’m gonna give you two some time.”  
   
“You don’t have to go.” Hayley’s brown eyes find his.  
   
“I know. I do, though. You need to be alone for a while.”  
   
She nods, understanding, and thanking him in her expression.  
   
He kisses Sebastian’s forehead. “I think your favorite girl could use a cuddle,” he tells him, and Sebastian nods and wordlessly rolls over toward her as Chris extracts himself from the pile of limbs in the bed.  
   
He glances behind himself just before he leaves the room, in time to see Hayley curling up in Sebastian’s arms and his going around her, tight and safe. He has imagined flashes of them as teenagers, curled up together in Sebastian’s tiny bed in a dorm room, crying together over what they’d lost, Sebastian crying even more for things he couldn’t tell her, at the time. He has been grateful every minute in the last 24 hours that Sebastian has always had Hayley. He is nearly positive Sebastian wouldn’t be alive right now if he didn’t. He shuts the door behind himself, closing them off from the world as they talk to each other in soft voices. He hopes they stay like that for an hour, at least. They need to talk, and grieve, and heal. Chris wants Sebastian back in his arms the moment he let go, but that isn’t his role today.  
   
He goes down the hall, finding Anthony sitting on the couch. He hadn’t known for sure whether Hayley brought him with her, but he was hoping she had. Everything is still so fresh, so close to the surface, and Chris wouldn’t have wanted to sit out here by himself while the love of his life is still in pieces in the other room.  
   
“Hey,” Anthony says when he sees Chris. He stands, and his one-sided smile is sad, and sympathetic, and understanding. “Are they …?”  
   
“They need a minute. Or, a lot longer than a minute, probably.”  
   
Anthony nods.  
   
“You, uh …” Chris rubs his hair back, and feels out of place in his own skin. He looks around the apartment, looks toward the kitchen, searching for something to say, something to do to feel useful. “You want coffee or anything?”  
   
“You don’t have to wait on me,” Anthony tells him.  
   
“I know.” Chris sighs. His eyes close, and when he opens them again, Anthony is a lot closer to him. He’s pulling Chris into a hug before Chris knows what’s happening, strong arms going around his back and squeezing. Chris hugs back automatically, and a wave of emotion hits him, triggered by the sympathy. He hunches over to rest his forehead on Anthony’s shoulder. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to do that. They’ve never hugged like this. They’ve done the manly, half-handshake hug, one arm around each other briefly and jovial pats on the back. This is so much different, and he doesn’t know if it’s going too far to bury himself in his friend like he would in Sebastian. Anthony doesn’t move away, though. He just hugs back tighter.  
   
“Figured … maybe no one was checkin’ in on you,” his voice says in Chris’s ear. “Askin’ how you’re doing in all this mess.”  
   
“I’m not who anyone should be worrying about,” Chris mumbles.  
   
“Yeah, you are.” A hand squeezes the back of his neck. “You got a shit-ton dumped on you the last two days. And I can worry about more than one person at once.”  
   
“Did you know?”  
   
“I knew about the accident, about Andrew. Seb never talks about it, but Hayley does. I didn’t know about the suicide attempt,” Anthony says heavily. “She’s been keeping that one to herself for half her life.”  
   
Chris sighs again and shakes his head. “I’m so sad for her. For both of them.”  
   
“We’ll get them through it. Right?”  
   
Chris nods. He doesn’t know how, doesn’t even know where to begin, but he’s more determined on that than he’s maybe ever been on anything. He pulls back from the hug first, not wanting Anthony to think he has to keep holding on if he doesn’t want to. Anthony doesn’t clap him on the shoulder and slip back into conversations about sports or work like Chris is expecting. Instead he leads Chris to the couch, more gently than Chris has ever been handled by someone he wasn’t dating or his Mom, and sits next to him. His arm goes around Chris’s shoulder, and Chris needs human contact so much when he’s having a day as bad as this one already is, so he can’t resist it. He slides down enough to rest his head back on Anthony’s shoulder.  
   
Still, he’s concern it’s too much, and says, “You don’t have to …”  
   
“Men who can’t cuddle their bros are weak,” Anthony says simply. “The man you love is in there hurting, so you’re hurting almost as much. Don’t add to it by going no-homo on me.”  
   
Chris feels himself smiling, and it’s a minor miracle. “You’re right. Thanks.”  
   
“Maybe I needed a hug too,” Anthony adds, and Chris can’t see his face but can hear in his voice the truth in that statement, so he wraps his arm around Anthony’s middle and leaves it there. “You and me gotta stick together if we have any hope of handling those two. They’d gang up on just one of us.”  
   
“Did they? Before I moved here?”  
   
“Gang up on me?” Anthony snorts. “Constantly. Daily. I needed you in this family.”  
   
Chris likes the sound of that, and likes the way it soothes a little of the hurt in his chest.  
   
Sebastian and Hayley stay in bed all morning. At one point one of them emerges to use the washroom but then goes back into the bedroom and closes the door. Chris puts ESPN on the TV and watches updates and sports bloopers with Anthony, and they wait. By the time they finally come out, they’re both puffy-eyed and red-cheeked but Sebastian looks a little less lost than he did when they woke up this morning. Hayley sniffs and wipes her eyes and sits on Anthony’s other side so he can take her hand, and Sebastian settles into Chris’s lap without hesitation or embarrassment and lets himself be cradled against Chris’s chest.  
   
“Doin’ any better?” Chris asks softly.  
   
“A little.” Sebastian rests his head on Chris’s shoulder.  
   
Anthony reaches over with his spare hand to rub Sebastian’s back. “We got you, Seabass.”  
   
“Thank you,” Sebastian says, quiet but genuine.  
   
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Anthony continues. “We’ve cried enough for this weekend. We’ve got half a day left before we all have to get our asses back to work, why don’t we go get a stupid amount of McDonald’s and take it to the park. Enjoy the sunshine a little.”  
   
“We look terrible,” Hayley says, wiping her eyes again.  
   
“You have never looked terrible,” Anthony argues, dipping down to kiss her. “Not one single second since I’ve known you.”  
   
“What about that time we went hiking and she got covered in poison ivy?” Sebastian asks, the lilt of a joke in his voice. “She looked like an alien.”  
   
“That’s very rude.” Hayley reaches over and flicks his elbow.  
   
“A beautiful alien,” Anthony says.  
   
Chris smiles into the top of Sebastian’s head.  
   
Anthony’s suggestion turns out to be a good one. It’s a warm day, and the sky is clear except for a few fluffy white clouds, and eating French fries in the park with their friends takes that haunted look off Sebastian’s face and replaces it with genuine smiles. Anthony gets them all laughing as he always does, and Sebastian laughs so hard at one terrible joke that he tips over onto the ground. He’s stunning in the sunlight and Chris can’t stop looking at him, can’t stop vowing internally that he’ll move mountains to keep Sebastian from ever being as sad again as he was yesterday.   
   
Anthony grabs a football from his car after they eat, tossing it to Chris and then chasing after him. They throw it back and forth for a minute before Sebastian comes over.  
   
“Alright, teach me,” he says.  
   
“Once  _again_ ,” Anthony rolls his eyes, “you’ve known me for years and took no interest in this, and now that you’ve got a big sexy boyfriend, suddenly you care.”  
   
Sebastian grins mischievously at Chris. “He thinks you’re sexy.”  
   
“He did say that,” Chris muses.  
   
“One time he told me he wiggled a little in his shorts watching you at the gym.”  
   
Chris cracks up, and Anthony flatly states, “I’m gonna disown both of you.”  
   
The football ended up in Chris’s hands, and he sends it back over to Anthony, and says to Sebastian, “Mackie’s the expert. Couldn’t ask for a better teacher.”  
   
“Fine, you’re back in my good-books,” Anthony says dramatically.  
   
Chris points at him. “Don’t watch me walk away.”  
   
“What about me?” Sebastian asks.  
   
Chris grabs him around the waist to kiss him. “You can.”  
   
Anthony whistles at him as he goes back towards Hayley. She’s lying on her back in the grass, one hand behind her head and her chest moving slowly up and down as she breathes. Dodger is dozing in the sun next to her hip, and her other hand is absently petting through his fur. Chris sits next to her, and watches Anthony taking Sebastian’s hands and showing him how to hold the football, fingers lined up along the stitching.  
   
“I used to do this, when I was little,” Hayley says. “Whenever I was angry or sad. I’d go out into our back garden and lie on the ground and just stare up at the sky. It’s so big, it makes all your problems seem smaller.”  
   
“Does it still work?”  
   
“Sometimes.”  
   
“I’m so sorry, about your brother.” Chris doesn’t really want to delve back into it, they’re supposed to be distracting themselves, but he hasn’t had a moment alone with her to say that yet.  
   
“Thank you.” Hayley sits up, brushing stray bits of grass off her hands. Her eyes find Sebastian and her husband, and they watch together as Sebastian attempts to throw the ball and it wobbles pathetically and he laughs along with Anthony.  
   
Chris presses his lips together to tamper his smile.  
   
“I saw a therapist,” Hayley says quietly. “For almost five years. I still do, now and then. I miss my brother, but I dealt with his death. I grieved for him, and then I learned how to carry on. Sebastian never did that. He just locked it all up, and thought it would disappear one day if he never talked about it. Yesterday was the first time we’ve had a real conversation about it since just after it happened. It’s always been there, unspoken between us, but he wouldn’t acknowledge it and I didn’t want to make it worse for him by forcing it.”  
   
“He says he wants to do it, now. Therapy, I mean.”  
   
“He told me that, too.” She nods. “That’s good. It’s a good start.”  
   
“I’m so happy he had you, all those years,” Chris tells her.  
   
“And now he has you.” Hayley turns her pretty smile to him, and takes Chris’s cheek into her hand for a moment.  
   
“I don’t think I’ll ever measure up to you.”  
   
She shakes her head. “I am over the moon at how much you love him.”  
   
“I do. I really, really do.”  
   
“I can see that.”  
   
“I will take care of him. For as long as he lets me. I promise you that.”  
   
Her smile turns brighter for just a moment and then fades, and she looks down at their hands, lost in thought for a moment before she speaks. “When I was 27, I was unexpectedly pregnant. It was a shock at first, I’d only been with the man I was dating for a few months, but then we were so excited. A little life to bring into this world. Sebastian couldn’t wait to be an uncle. He’d have made such a good one, too. He would have doted on that child.”  
   
Chris agrees with that with his whole heart. The way Sebastian is with Chris’s niece and nephews, Chris knows he would have been incredible. He’s quiet, because he already knows where the story is heading. He knew the moment she began it that it wouldn’t have a happy ending.  
   
“We lost her. I lost her,” Hayley says, her voice sad and reminiscent.   
   
“It was a girl.” Chris sighs, and closes his eyes for a moment. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry.”  
   
Hayley nods, blinking off into the distance. A few yards away, Anthony and Sebastian are still laughing at Sebastian’s continually feeble attempts to get a tight spin on the football.  
   
“How far …” Chris begins, and then stops himself. “Never mind, I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”  
   
“28 weeks,” Hayley says anyway.  
   
Quickly doing the math in his head, Chris’s stomach turns. “That’s …”  
   
“Quite late, yes. They gave her to us, after … so we could say goodbye. She was small, too small to survive.”  
   
Chris takes her hand, and she wraps both of hers around his.  
   
“Our relationship didn’t survive it either.” She smiles at him sadly. “We tried, but we couldn’t look at each other anymore without thinking of her. And Sebastian … well, the point of this tragic story, is that suddenly, after nearly seven years of me being the one who picked him back up when he stumbled, I was in need of his help. So we have healed each other. And we will continue to do so, even though now both of us have found someone else who can do it just as well.”  
   
“You’ve both been through so much.”  
   
“So have you.” Hayley’s hands squeeze his. “So has Anthony. We all have shadows in our rear-view mirrors, but we also have each other.”  
   
Chris lifts up his t-shirt to show her his tattoo. “Best friend from high school. Died in an accident just after we graduated.”  
   
“That’s terrible, I’m sorry.”  
   
“But we have each other,” Chris says, repeating her, and she nods.  
   
“When all that happened to me … that was the first time I saw Sebastian really seem to take a turn for the better. I always thought, if there had to be a silver lining to what happened to me, it was that he seemed to have been called to some sort of higher purpose by it. Even after I’d gotten back on my feet, he seemed better. He didn’t have that faraway look in his eyes anymore. He really seemed to turn a corner. He wasn’t quite the same as the boy I met when we were 18, but he seemed to have improved.”  
   
Chris waits for her to continue. Anthony notices them, and frowns at Chris, and he shakes his head to indicate they’re okay. Sebastian sees Anthony looking, and follows his eyeline and notices, too.  
   
“Until very recently, I always thought that was a good thing,” Hayley says. “But I think I’m just now realizing what actually happened. He knew I needed him to be strong, so he learned how to pretend he was. And then he got so comfortable pretending that he just stayed there. And then he met you. And you loved him. That stripped back some of the protective layers he’d wrapped himself in.”  
   
“I never meant to make things worse.”  
   
“Oh my darling, you haven’t. You’ve made them immeasurably better. This all should have come out a decade ago. Sebastian and I have called each other best friend for nearly half our lives, but we had been  _lying_  to each other, about something so important, since we were 19 years old. I don’t know how much longer that would have gone on if it hadn’t been for you.”  
   
“Everybody okay over here?” Anthony asks, approaching with Sebastian behind him looking worried.  
   
Hayley sniffs and nods. “We’re just being needlessly melancholy.”  
   
Sebastian plops down onto the grass on her other side and pulls her into a sideways hug. Dodger gets up to make room for him, and then goes over and jumps up on Anthony to ask for attention.   
   
“We’re supposed to be out here cheering ourselves up,” Sebastian says.  
   
“I’m alright,” Hayley promises, demeanour brightening in a way that doesn’t seem fake or put on. She reaches her hand out towards Anthony. “My turn, Coach. Teach me what a button hook is.”  
   
“You know what it is.” He takes her hand and pulls her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her briefly and asking, “you sure you’re okay?”  
   
She nods, and kisses him, and he hands her the football as they walk away.  
   
Sebastian turns his worried frown to Chris.  
   
“She told me about the miscarriage.”  
   
“Oh.” Sebastian looks back at her, across the lawn, and swears softly. “I forget about that sometimes. Feels like a lifetime ago.”  
   
Chris shifts in closer, taking Sebastian’s face in his hands and kissing him. Sebastian tips them so they end up horizontal, lying half on top of Chris and kissing him in the grass and the sunshine.  
   
“I love you,” Chris tells him. “To the end of the fuckin’ world.”  
   
“I love you, too,” Sebastian says into another kiss.  
   
“Would you marry me?” Chris asks, impulsively, because he’s never been any good at controlling himself. “One day?”  
   
Sebastian pulls back with wide eyes. “Are you asking?”  
   
“Not yet. I’m …” Chris shrugs. “Asking if I can ask.”  
   
Sebastian’s mouth opens twice before he responds. “You really … want that? Forever? With me?”  
   
Chris smooths Sebastian’s hair back off his forehead and tries to put as much truth into his expression as he can muster. “I want a hundred forevers with you.”  
   
Sebastian melts into another kiss, and whispers into it, “I want that, too.”  
   
They stay until the sun sets and the air cools, parting with a giant, lingering group hug before they pair off into separate cars. Chris drives back to his house. There are still balled up tissues on the coffee table from Friday night, from both of them crying as Sebastian cut old wounds open and laid everything bare. Chris sweeps them into the garbage can from the kitchen. Sebastian doesn’t seem bothered by them. He looks tired, but he’s smiling. His arms go around Chris’s neck when Chris pulls him in close, pressing their lips together again in a slow, mellow slide.  
   
“What now?” Chris asks. He dips his fingers just into Sebastian’s waistband to keep him pressed in tight.  
   
“Take me upstairs,” Sebastian answers softly. As an afterthought, he adds, “if you want.”  
   
Chris’s stomach clenches, hurt just for a moment that Sebastian worries he might not. “Of course I want. Always want you. Wanted you since the day we met. Want you for the rest of our lives.”  
   
“Me too,” Sebastian breathes. He tips his forehead against Chris’s, arms still around his shoulders.  
   
Chris reluctantly moves out of the embrace, taking Sebastian’s hand and leading him up the stairs. They kiss against the door of Chris’s bedroom, generous sweeps of their lips and Sebastian’s parting to let Chris’s tongue inside. He pushes his hands up under Sebastian’s shirt to feel the warmth of his skin.  
   
“What d’you want?” he asks.  
   
“You,” Sebastian answers simply.  
   
“Got me,” Chris promises.  
   
Sebastian pulls him to the bed and they fall into it together, Chris ending up on top so he can press Sebastian into the mattress, surrounding him in warmth. He pushes his thigh down, feels Sebastian hardening between his legs, rocks into him so Sebastian can feel him, too. Feel how much he wants, how much he needs them bare and connected and lit up from the inside.  
   
“Love you,” Chris tells him again. He can never say it enough. He’ll say it fifty times a day until the day he dies, if Sebastian lets him.  
   
“Me too,” Sebastian whispers back, beautiful and solid underneath him, with his hair messy and his eyes shining and his lips red from Chris kissing them. His smile is sweet, and laced with emotion. He’s the brightest spark Chris has ever known, and he’s possessive of good things, and plans on never, ever letting Sebastian go.


	28. Chapter 28

Sebastian wakes up surrounded by warmth. Chris is behind him, an arm draped over Sebastian’s middle, molded to his back. The arm over him is heavy, pinning him down, keeping him right where he is. Sebastian lets himself float for a few moments, in that delicious place halfway between asleep and awake, with Chris against him. It’s early, probably not even six yet, judging by the blueish tinge to the light peeking in above the curtains. When he’s with it a little more, he wiggles his hips backwards, finds Chris half-hard against his ass, just because it’s morning and they’re close together. Sebastian turns his head and smiles into the pillow. He does it again, and behind him Chris lets out a sleepy moan.  
   
“Morning,” he says into the back of Sebastian’s neck, voice raspy and soft.  
   
The sound of it sends sparks down Sebastian’s spine. Instead of answering he reaches back, hand finding Chris’s hip, urging him to rock forward so his dick can slide between the cheeks of Sebastian’s ass. Chris does, and moans again. Flashes return of the night before, Chris rough and commanding like he gets sometimes, angling Sebastian’s body just the way he’d wanted it, pounding into him relentlessly and dragging him helpless toward coming twice in less than 10 minutes, and then so sweet after. He’s always sweet, but especially after he’s worked Sebastian over like that. Always gathers him up and pets him like he’s a kitten and whispers ridiculous romance in the space between their lips.  
   
“Seb,” he breathes.  
   
His name feels like sandpaper over Sebastian’s skin. Arousal courses through his own veins to match Chris’s. “Bet you could just slip right back in.”  
   
“Fuck.” Chris kisses behind Sebastian’s ear. “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby.”  
   
“Get more lube, then.”  
   
Chris says “fuck” again and then he’s gone, just for a second, just for long enough to roll over and grab it from the nightstand. His heat returns quickly, lips finding Sebastian’s neck again as two slick fingers slide into him.  
   
Sebastian hums happily, pushing back against his hand, instantly wanting more.  
   
“Gonna kill me one’a these days,” Chris murmurs, low and quiet in Sebastian’s ear.  
   
His fingertips find Sebastian’s prostate and he rubs around it, teasing, before pressing into it and making Sebastian see stars.  
   
“C’mon,” Sebastian urges. “Did this just a few hours ago, I don’t need that much.”  
   
“I’ll decide how much you need. Got it?” Chris argues, authoritative. Sebastian shivers and his cock throbs. He wants to reach for it, wrap his own fingers around it for some relief, but Chris didn’t tell him to, and suddenly Sebastian cares deeply about that.  
   
“Yes, Mr. Evans,” Sebastian returns, joking a little, but also dizzy.  
   
Chris chuckles and it oozes over Sebastian like warm honey. “Oh, you wanna play?”  
   
“Maybe.”  
   
“Thought I was the one who likes being bossed around.”  
   
“Maybe I like it, too.”  
   
“It’s always,” Chris interrupts himself briefly to drag his teeth gently over Sebastian’s earlobe, “an adventure with you.”  
   
“Fuck me,” Sebastian begs. He outright begs it, and doesn’t care that it’s pathetic.  
   
Chris, thankfully, listens to him. His fingers withdraw and he replaces them with his cock, pressing in slow. It burns a little, Sebastian not quite as prepped as he usually would be, but he moans into the pillow and lets it light him up. He loves it, loves the stretch, loves how his body opens up around Chris until he’s fully seated and Sebastian is filled up and claimed and surrounded.  
   
Chris breathes against the back of his neck and rocks into him lazily, languid and deliberately measured. He wraps his arm back around Sebastian’s middle and pulls him in closer so they’re plastered together and his chest rubs against Sebastian’s back, hair scratchy on his skin. Sebastian trembles as the tip of Chris’s cock grinds inside him, breathing coming in stutters as Chris keeps mouthing at the back of his neck. It barely moves in and out of him, just rubs inside, and it’s intoxicating.  
   
“Always feel so good,” Chris tells him, breathy and sounding as needy as Sebastian feels. It’s still a head-rush, even after all these months, that Chris wants him the way he does. Sebastian glows under the attention, feels puffed up with pride that  _he_  can get Chris wobbly like that.  
   
“This is …” Sebastian’s thought process is momentarily interrupted as Chris thrusts in a little harder, just two or three times and then back to the lazy slide, “ _fuck_ … a good angle.”  
   
“Oh yeah?” Chris hums and sounds pleased about it.  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
His hand comes around, long fingers curling around Sebastian’s cock and twisting. “Feels so good when you come around me,” Chris rasps. His breath is hot against Sebastian’s neck. “Squeezes the fuckin’ life outta me. Can never, ever get enough of it. Enough of you.”  
   
“Chris,” Sebastian moans.  
   
“C’mon, baby.” Chris speeds his hand up, stroking Sebastian quick and grinding into him.  
   
Sebastian falls, coming with a breathy shout over Chris’s fingers. Chris smiles against his neck and follows a minute later, filling Sebastian up with slippery heat from the inside, claiming him without words. He breathes heavily for a while after, his fingers still idly playing with Sebastian until it’s too much, until his fingertips feel rough against Sebastian’s sensitive flesh.  
   
“Babe,” he whispers.  
   
“Sorry.” Chris kisses behind his ear and lets him go. “Love this cock so much, always wanna be touchin’ it.”  
   
Sebastian shivers again. He wasn’t prepared, when he’d half-jokingly suggested Chris could slide back into him, for it to hit like this. Chris pulls out of him gently, hand on Sebastian’s hip and rubbing as an apology for the sting, and then tugs at Sebastian so he rolls over and can curl up in Chris’s arms.  
   
“Morning,” Chris says again, and Sebastian giggles and hides his face. It flushes – not exactly in embarrassment, but something like it.  
   
“Not a terrible way to start a day,” he says, unable to keep the smile off his face even though Chris can’t see it.  
   
“No it was not,” Chris agrees. He kisses Sebastian’s forehead. “ _God,_ I fuckin’ love you.”  
   
“Me too.” Sebastian swallows, and is glad his face is hidden. It overwhelms him, sometimes, when Chris says it in  _that_ tone, like he’s never meant anything more, like he’s bowled over by it himself.  
   
Chris moves, after a minute, like he’s going to get up, and Sebastian tightens the arm he has wrapped over Chris’s ribcage and doesn’t let him go. He isn’t ready, just yet, to face the day. Especially not  _this_ day.  
   
“Hey,” Chris murmurs to him. His fingers drag through Sebastian’s hair. “It’s okay. We’re gonna get through this.”  
   
“I know,” Sebastian answers, and he does know, the knowledge just won’t make the process any less painful. “Just … dreading.”  
   
“Still want me to go with you?”  
   
“Not if you don’t want to.”  
   
“That’s not what I asked, Sebastian,” Chris says, gentle but firm about it.  
   
Sebastian swallows, and nods. His forehead rubs against Chris’s collarbone. “Please.”  
   
“You got me,” Chris promises. “No matter what happens. Doesn’t matter if it takes two sessions a week for the next decade. It  _won’t_ , but even if it did, I’d always be there on the other side. Okay?”  
   
Sebastian nods again. “Okay.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
“Walk Dodger around the block with me, before you go?”  
   
Sebastian drains the last sip of coffee from his mug. He has a final exam to invigilate this morning, one of his first-year classes, and then the appointment in the afternoon. He doesn’t really want to go to either, and has to go to both.  
   
He looks up. Chris is in the doorway of his kitchen, holding Dodger’s leash in his hands and a hopeful, earnest expression on his handsome face. He’d trimmed his beard, the other day, and it’s cut close to his face, leaving just an even brown dusting over his cheeks and chin, with that hint of red in it, especially in the sunshine. Sebastian remembers that face being dangerous, when they’d first met, because Chris always looks so sincere and so trustworthy, Sebastian had wanted to spill every secret he’s ever had to him on their first date. Chris has them all, now.   
   
Hayley had told him to be careful, to refrain from giving Chris the power to break his heart before Sebastian knew for sure he wouldn’t. Sebastian knows, for sure, he wouldn’t.  
   
He nods. “Okay. Just give me a second.”  
   
Sebastian clears the dishes from their breakfast, not liking to leave a mess in somebody else’s home. This house doesn’t feel like somebody else’s home, though. It feels like it’s his, as much as it is Chris’s.  
   
Chris holds his hand as they walk. It’s a brisk morning, and when Sebastian says so, Chris lets go of his hand and wraps his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders instead. The sky above them is grey with heavy cloud-cover, threatening rain, and of course it would rain today. Sebastian shouldn’t be surprised. He can tell Chris is thinking the same thing, even though he doesn’t say it, and luckily it doesn’t start until 20 minutes later when they’re in the car, so they don’t get caught in it.   
   
Chris drops him off as close as he can get to the building where their offices are. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll come get you.”  
   
“You don’t need to. I can …”  
   
“What? Walk home in the rain?” Chris takes his hand again, and kisses his knuckles. That same sincerity shines in his eyes when he looks over. “Please let me take care of you? It’s not pity, it’s not obligation, it’s not – whatever else you’re thinking. I just love you. I love you, and you’re mine, and I like taking care of you. You’d do the same for me, if I was … you  _have_ done the same for me. So let me?”  
   
Sebastian has to clench his teeth for a moment, but then he nods and he squeezes Chris’s hand. “Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m done.”  
   
“Good.” Chris leans over to kiss him goodbye.  
   
As he gets out of the car, Sebastian notices a small group of students a few yards away, looking in his direction. Kayla, the girl Chris let stay at his house that one night, is one of them. She smiles and gives Sebastian a small wave. He returns it. Chris, he notices just before he enters the building, has put the hazard lights on in his truck and gotten out of it, jogging over to the group to talk with them. He high-fives a few of them. Sebastian smiles to himself as he goes inside. Chris is a dork, sometimes, and Sebastian is hopelessly in love.  
   
*           *           *  
   
The psychologist’s office is in an old house, converted into a shared space between her practice and a chiropractor. Sebastian sits in Chris’s truck for a few minutes, staring at it, before he can convince himself to go in. Chris doesn’t push him, doesn’t ask him why he needs a minute. Chris just holds his hand, thumb moving in a slow, reassuring arc over the back of Sebastian’s palm. He lets Sebastian take the moment he needs, and then shuts the engine down when Sebastian’s ready and follows him inside.  
   
He isn’t ready, not really, but he figures maybe no one ever is. Maybe this is one of those things that you just have to jump into, ready or not. Maybe if he waited until he felt ready, he’d never go.  
   
“Sebastian Stan,” he tells the grandmotherly receptionist. “I have an appointment with Dr. Singh.”  
   
“I’ll let her know you’re here,” the woman says, typing something on her keyboard that must send an alert to the therapist. She looks to Chris, then. “And you?”  
   
“Oh, no, I’m …” Chris shakes his head, and gestures at Sebastian. “Moral support.”  
   
“Oh. Well that’s nice of you. My sister probably wouldn’t take a day off work to go to an appointment with me!”  
   
It’s on the tip of Sebastian’s tongue to correct her, but Chris nudges him, so he doesn’t.  
   
“Just up the stairs.” The woman points. “There is a waiting area. Dr. Singh with come get you.”  
   
“Thank you,” Chris says politely. They climb the staircase and settle in padded chairs opposite a row of doors.  
   
“Should’a kissed you in front of her,” Sebastian grumbles, even though he isn’t really angry.  
   
Chris laughs softly, and takes Sebastian’s hand again. “She was a hundred years old. And just because she didn’t automatically assume we’re a couple, doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be okay with it if she knew.”  
   
“I know.”  
   
“I’ll hold your hand on the way out, if its important to you to make a point.”  
   
“It isn’t,” Sebastian says honestly.  
   
The furthest door from them opens, and a woman who looks around their age steps out. She’s in a navy suit, with dark hair pulled back into a knot at the top of her head and stylish yellow glasses. “Sebastian?” she asks, looking back and forth between them.  
   
“Yeah,” Sebastian answers. “That’s me.”  
   
She holds her hand out, gesturing at the door behind her.  
   
Sebastian hesitates again, heartrate increasing a little and uncomfortable butterflies churning his stomach.  
   
Chris says gently, “you can do this.”  
   
Sebastian looks at him. Chris, not caring that they have an audience, brings his hand up to cup Sebastian’s cheek, guide him in for a kiss.  
   
“I’ll be right here when you’re done.”  
   
“You don’t have to wait.”  
   
“I’m going to. Doesn’t matter whether I have to.”  
   
Sebastian exhales. He stands, but doesn’t let go of Chris’s hand. He tries to, but his fingers won’t unclench.  
   
“Seb,” Chris’s voice says.  
   
He looks down. Chris, for just a second, glances around Sebastian at the doctor waiting for him. Then he holds Sebastian’s hip in his other hand. “If you’re not … listen, just, try? If you get in there and you really can’t, we can get outta here and try again next week.”  
   
Sebastian swallows. He knows he’s being ridiculous. Knows that Chris means it when he says that, but it would be a waste of time and money to run away now that he’s here. He leans down, kissing Chris again, rubbing a thumb through his beard, and then letting go of him. Chris smiles like he’s proud, as Sebastian shakes Dr. Singh’s hand and then follows her into her office.  
   
He sits, not reclined on a couch like the trope but in a comfortable red armchair. She sits in an identical one across from him, with a white marble coffee table between them. It reminds Sebastian a little of the one he has at home, mid-century modern in style and architecture. There is a big window on the wall behind them, and bright sunlight filters in. It had rained most of the morning, but stopped in the afternoon and now it’s sunny again.  
   
“It’s very nice to meet you,” she tells him, with a smile. “Can I call you Sebastian, or would you prefer Dr. Stan?”  
   
“Sebastian. People who introduce themselves as ‘doctor’ outside of their place of employment are pretentious, don’t you think?” He realizes a second after he says it that she might take offense to it, but she keeps on smiling.  
   
“I agree. Why don’t we begin with you telling me why you’re here?”  
   
Sebastian takes a deep breath. Tries to concentrate on the feeling of it filling his lungs and then exiting, tries to make it cleansing. He’s reminded, again, that he’s only told one person before, and that was only a week ago. It’s been such a huge part of his life for so long and the only time he ever told the story was the night he told it to Chris. He never even told Anthony. He knows, Sebastian knows he does, but he knows because Hayley told him.  
   
“Take your time,” she says kindly. “I know some things are difficult to talk about, when you’re not used to talking about them.”  
   
“That’s the same thing he said.”  
   
“The man outside?”  
   
He nods.  
   
“Your husband?”  
   
“Not … not yet.” Sebastian shifts in his seat. “Maybe someday.”  
   
“Your partner, then. At least for now.”  
   
He nods again. That’s a better way to put it.  
   
“It seems like he loves you.”  
   
“He does.”  
   
“That’s wonderful.”  
   
Sebastian looks up at her. He manages a smile. “Yeah. It is.”  
   
“You talked to him, about – the reason you’re here?”  
   
“He’s the reason I’m here. I never … I never cared enough about myself to fix the shit that’s broken in my head. Until him.”  
   
“I don’t think that’s completely true.” She crosses her legs and looks at him. “It might be part of it. But most people don’t go to therapy because somebody else wants them to. You’re here because  _you_ want to get better. If he wants that for you too, that’s just icing.”  
   
“It wasn’t his idea. Coming here. It was mine.”  
   
“Good. That’s good.” Another smile. “It’s a cliché, the idea that asking for help is the hardest step. It often isn’t. But it  _is_ hard, and you did it. Try to give yourself credit for that.”  
   
“I was in a really bad car accident,” Sebastian says, making himself blurt it out. “When I was 19. My boyfriend died. Right in front of me, I watched him die.”  
   
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”  
   
“And I … a little while later, I tried to kill myself. I failed, obviously, but I wanted to die. And ever since then … I don’t know, it’s just sort of always … there. In the back of my mind. I’ve never been able to shake it. That’s … to your original question. That’s why I’m here.”  
   
She pauses, to write something down on the pad in her hands. Sebastian hates that part. He spends his days watching students take notes, in their notebooks or on their expensive laptops, frantically jotting down every word that comes out of his mouth as he lectures from the front of the classroom. But they’re never taking notes on  _him_. He doesn’t like feeling like the subject of somebody’s research, instead of just the messenger.  
   
Dr. Singh looks up when she’s finished, and nods reassuringly. “When we’ve suffered a tragedy, when we experience trauma, we usually don’t ever shake it completely. You’ll probably always be a little sad, when you think of him. That’s how it should be, we don’t want to cut ourselves off from our emotions. The death of a loved one is supposed to make us sad. But we can work together on teaching you some tools to handle it in a way that’s healthy and constructive, instead of destructive.”  
   
“The ways I’ve handled it in the past have been pretty destructive.”  
   
“Such as?”  
   
“I don’t know.” Sebastian rubs his eyes. They’re not fully dry, but he’s managing to talk, and isn’t breaking down, and that feels like progress. “Trying not to think about it. Never talking about it, even with … his sister is my best friend, still, and I never talked about it with her until recently, even though she wanted to. I threw myself really hard into my work, so I’d be distracted. And when that didn’t work. Alcohol. Party drugs, when I was younger, although I haven’t done that in a while. Anonymous sex. Letting … letting guys treat me badly, as if it was some kind of … penance.”  
   
More scribbling. Sebastian tries to ignore it. He knows she has to take notes, so she can remember from session to session what they talked about. “What about the one out there?” she tips her head toward the outside wall of her office.  
   
Sebastian shakes his head. “No. Not him. He’d never … he really, really loves me. It …”  
   
“What?” she prompts.  
   
“It should’ve been enough, you know? To get rid of all this other crap.” Sebastian sniffs, and tears do spill over, as he makes himself say out loud the thing he’s been most ashamed of. Admitting it leaves a painful knot in his stomach. “I feel like I’m letting him down.”  
   
Dr. Singh reaches down to the coffee table in between them to pick up the box of tissues. She holds it out, offering, and Sebastian takes two of them.   
   
“That’s not how it works, I’m afraid. Love can heal many things, but not everything. That doesn’t lessen it. He could love you more than any human has ever loved anyone, and it wouldn’t fix this any more than it could fix a broken leg. And,” she continues, when Sebastian just sniffs instead of answering, “from what I saw, just now, it doesn’t seem like he thinks you’re letting him down. It seems like the complete opposite.”  
   
Sebastian nods again, and wipes his eyes.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris is slumped back in the chair and scrolling on his phone, when Dr. Singh opens the door and puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder as he moves past her. Chris sits up expectantly, frowning when he sees Sebastian’s face streaked with tears.  
   
“I’ll see you next week?” Dr. Singh asks.  
   
Sebastian nods, and shakes her hand. “Yeah. Thank you. Next week.”  
   
She looks to Chris, and with a smile, tells him, “maybe take him out for ice cream or something? He did great work today, deserves a treat.”  
   
Chris gets up. “Yeah. Yeah, I sure will.”  
   
She pats Sebastian’s shoulder again, and then disappears back into her office.  
   
Chris is almost cartoonishly wringing his hands, a worried look plastered all over his face. Sebastian goes to him and lets Chris pull him into a tight hug. “You okay?”  
   
“I’m okay.” Sebastian pushes his face into Chris’s shoulder. “That sucked, but. It felt … I don’t know. Like at least it was going somewhere. It’s always gonna hurt, I guess, but at least hurting in there accomplishes something positive.”  
   
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Chris murmurs. He kisses the side of Sebastian’s face, and then his closed eyelids, and finally his lips. “Do you want ice cream?”  
   
Sebastian laughs wetly. “Yes, please.”  
   
“Then let’s go get ice cream.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
Chris slaps his thigh and tips back against the couch, a full body laugh sending him spiralling. Anthony chuckles beside him. Sebastian watches from across the room, leaning against the kitchen door frame, as the man of his dreams grabs his own chest and shakes with laughter. Chris laughs with his entire being when he finds something really funny. He’s so unconcerned with appearances or reputations, he just feels what he feels and it never occurs to him that he might not look cool as he does it. Of his many lovely qualities, that’s the one Sebastian thinks he fell in love with first. He’s spent most of his adult life hyperaware of the way he presents himself, carefully curating the public aspects of his personality to achieve a desired effect, and it was refreshing to spend time with someone so unbothered with those trivial pursuits. It never made Sebastian any happier if a colleague he barely knows found him polished and professional. There was freedom in giving all that up, in learning to laugh until he snorts and cry until he’s hiccupping and express disappointment when he felt it and still have Chris’s loving arms to fall into.  
   
Haley comes up behind him, putting her hand on his waist and resting her head against his shoulder. They’re in the doorway of her kitchen, watching as Chris nearly chokes with laughter over the story Anthony is animatedly telling him. “We picked good ones,” she says softly.   
   
“Yes we did,” Sebastian agrees. He takes her hand and leads her back into the kitchen, spinning her around with her fingers over her head and then pulling her in to dance slowly around the room without music. The cackling from the other room serves as their beat.  
   
She smiles up at him. “Wasn’t the easiest route to get here, but we’re here now.”  
   
“I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Sebastian doesn’t think he’s ever spoken truer words.   
   
“I wouldn’t have made it without you, either.” She looks like she means it, even if it’s Sebastian instinct to argue that she helped him far more than he ever helped her. Maybe he helped her in ways he doesn’t know about.  
   
“I would’ve married you, you know. If I’d been straight.”  
   
She laughs. He twirls her again, and when he pulls her back in she combs his hair back from his face and shakes her head. “We would’ve made each other miserable. Too similar. Too serious, too prone to melancholy.”   
   
As if to prove her point, laughter sounds again from the living room, bright and happy.   
   
She smiles and angles her head in their direction. “We needed them.”  
   
“Let’s not be stupid and fuck it up, then.”  
   
“I have no immediate plans to do so.”  
   
“I went to see a therapist.”  
   
“That’s such good news. How was it?”  
   
“Horrible,” he admits, “but horrible in the right direction.”  
   
“It will be, at first. I promise it does get easier.”  
   
“That’s what Chris said.”  
   
“He’s right.”  
   
“He asked if I’d marry him.”  
   
Hayley’s eyes widen. “You’re engaged?”  
   
“No, no we’re not,” Sebastian corrects quickly. “He wasn’t really asking, just wanted to know how I’d respond if he did.”  
   
“And? Do you want to be married to him?”  
   
Sebastian nods. “I really do.”  
   
“Who, me?” Chris’s voice asks from the doorway Sebastian and Hayley had been standing in only minutes before. He’d over heard the tail end of their conversation, and is grinning at them.  
   
“Who else?” Sebastian responds.  
   
“Is my husband checking on the steaks?” Hayley asks.  
   
“Yep,” Chris nods his head in the direction of the backyard, where the barbeque is.  
   
“Do you think he needs help?” she follows-up, clearly fishing for an excuse to leave them alone for a few minutes.  
   
Chris smiles wider, catching her drift. “Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t turn it down.”  
   
She smirks at Sebastian, and kisses Chris on the cheek as she passes him.  
   
Sebastian holds his hand out, letting Chris take Hayley’s place in his arms and resuming the dance with a new partner. “I’m not wearing a white dress, you know.”  
   
Chris chuckles warmly. “I don’t want you in a white dress. I want you in the most devastating, most expensive suit you can get your hands on. Tailored so it fits you like a glove, so all the single people in attendance go home crying because it’s such a tragedy you’re off the market.”  
   
“That’s not very nice.”  
   
“Or,” Chris relents, kissing Sebastian’s forehead, “you could wear a bee-keeper’s uniform. You could wear a clown costume. You could wear a garbage bag with holes cut out for the arms. Wouldn’t matter, I’d still be swooning.”  
   
Sebastian laughs. “You’re a doofus.”  
   
“Love you.”  
   
“Yeah. Me too.”  
   
*           *           *


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for patience, I know this was a long time in between chapters! I got busy with my Cap Reverse Big Bang in June.

Chris wipes sweat from his forehead with a towel, breathing heavily and reaching down for his water bottle to squeeze a stream of it into his mouth. Across the weight area, Sebastian grunts as he drops the barbell in his hands to the floor. It bounces on the rubber tile and he rolls his shoulders, shaking the ache from the weights out of his muscles. Chris watches him for a moment before Sebastian realizes he has a captive audience. He rubs the back of his neck, pushing his damp hair back off his forehead and flexing, the muscles moving in his back, in clear view because his black t-shirt is clinging to him. Chris’s mouth goes dry and he takes another drink and swishes it around in his mouth.  
   
Sebastian does feel Chris’s eyes on him after a minute and he turns, sending Chris a half-smile that’s part-way between cocky and shy. It’s so endearing Chris feels butterflies swoop in his stomach.  
   
“Slacking off?” Sebastian jokes.  
   
Chris sets his water bottle back onto the bench and walks over, pulling Sebastian’s warm body in by his waist. “Just enjoying the view.”  
   
“This is not my favorite way to get sweaty with you.”  
   
Chris presses a quick kiss to his lips and then drags the tip of his nose along Sebastian’s cheek, through the rough scrape of stubble. “You look good, though.”  
   
Sebastian’s lips find Chris’s, opening against him and kissing him deeper. Chris smiles into it, but then playfully smacks Sebastian’s ass and pulls away.  
   
“Eyes on the ball, Professor. Take a lap with me.” He doesn’t wait for Sebastian to answer before he takes off, heading to the track and running, a little faster than a jog.  
   
Sebastian chases after him, catching up because Chris lets him. Once they’ve gone all the way around and slow down, Sebastian bends over and laughs, looking up at Chris, face flushed and smiling. Eyes crinkled at the edges, hair messy, a line of sweat running down over his temple. He’s stunning, and if they weren’t in a public gym at their place of employment, Chris would tackle him to the floor.  
   
“Chin-ups,” he says instead, swatting Sebastian on the shoulder. “I’ll spot you.”  
   
Sebastian follows him to the bar. He reaches up, biceps rippling under his tanned skin, curling his long fingers around the metal and hoisting himself up fluidly. He pulls his body until his neck is level with the bar and then back down. His legs are crossed at the ankles, knees bent to keep them off the floor. Chris controls himself for the first few but then can’t help himself, he needs to touch too badly to resist. He steps in closer, cupping Sebastian’s hips in his hands. Sebastian smiles through a grimace from the effort.  
   
“Five more,” Chris tells him. He inches in as Sebastian moves, feeling blood move, pooling low in his abdomen and lower. He can smell the sweat on Sebastian’s skin, see the flush travelling down his neck. He wants to taste it, to strip him naked right here and taste him everywhere.  
   
Sebastian grunts softly, nose scrunching as he pulls himself up again.  
   
Chris slides his hands around, digging his fingers into the backs of Sebastian’s thighs and guiding them forward, urging Sebastian to wrap his legs around Chris’s waist, helping him balance as he struggles through the last few.   
   
“Slower,” Chris tells him, voice coming out low and raspy. “Control it.”  
   
He’s close enough for Chris to tilt his chin up so Sebastian’s jaw comes into contact with his lips as he comes down. Sebastian’s hips tip forward, half-hard between his legs like Chris is and the bulge in his shorts rubbing along Chris’s stomach as he moves through three more pull-ups.  
   
“That’s it,” Chris murmurs to him.  
   
Sebastian’s breathing heavily by the time he’s done, from more than just the physical exertion, and bleary-eyed. He looks at Chris with his lips parted, and Chris wraps his arms more fully around him.  
   
He wants to say they can’t do this here, even though he was the one who started it. Wants to say it isn’t a good idea for Sebastian to be hard against him, for Chris to be just as affected, in a place where anyone could walk in at any minute. It’s early on Sunday morning so they’re alone, but might not stay that way for long. Wants to say all those things but can’t, because Sebastian is warm, and he smells earthy and salty, and the beads of sweat along his hairline are calling out to Chris’s tongue. It hasn’t faded, the intensity of the burn of want inside him when he gets Sebastian like this. It has bloomed into something so much deeper, more comfortable and profound and meaningful than it was in their first few weeks together. But that ache is still there just as strong as it was the first time he’d wanted to press Sebastian down into his couch and devour him, but held back because he was gun-shy after the last time he’d given his heart to somebody.  
   
He tightens his arms, moving one under Sebastian’s ass to support him, urging Sebastian to let go of the bar. He does, slowly, draping his arms over Chris’s shoulders and letting Chris take his weight. Sebastian has never made Chris regret giving him everything. Their ups and downs have been manageable, and he’s never for a moment doubted Sebastian loves him, even when they’ve had bad days, even when Chris has been angry, or the one needing to apologize, or when his anxieties rear back up as they always will. It isn’t always perfect but it’s solid. It’s exactly what Chris always wanted, what he’d nearly given up on before he found it in the man in his arms. Chris carries him, struggling only a little, over to the bench where his water bottle still sits and puts Sebastian down onto it. He goes to his knees, pushing between Sebastian’s thighs and surging up to kiss him.  
   
Sebastian gasps softly and kisses back, fingers tangling in Chris’s hair. Chris’s head goes fuzzy, world narrowed down to the feeling of Sebastian against him, the heat coming off of him, the soft, familiar feeling of his tongue in Chris’s mouth. They’re startled, then, by a sound from across the gym, that Chris recognizes as the sound of the doors opening and clicking closed. He jumps up, springs away from Sebastian and walks a few steps away from him, walking off the arousal and trying to breathe his erection away so they aren’t fired before the end of the day. Sebastian just stays on the bench where he was, likely doing the same.  
   
With his heart beating too fast, Chris looks over toward the entrance, and then groans in relief when he sees Anthony approaching them across the floor. There’s an older man beside him, one Chris recognizes as part of the football administration but who he’s never met, and that’s embarrassing but it’s still far better than if it had been students.  
   
“Fuck,” Sebastian says softly, only loud enough for Chris to hear, and he laughs breathlessly and leans his elbows onto his knees, hanging his head and shaking it as he chuckles.  
   
Chris wipes his mouth and laughs too, nervously.  
   
“Hey fellas,” Anthony says as he approaches. Chris holds up a hand in greeting, and it only takes Anthony a few quick glances between the two of them before he’s working it all out in his head and cracking up. Their flushed cheeks and the way they’re both positioned gives them away easily to someone who knows them as well as he does. “Oh shit, you were  _not_.”  
   
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sebastian answers stiffly. He stands, but Chris definitely notices the way he grabs Chris’s towel and holds it nonchalantly in front of his own body, hiding his midsection.  
   
“This isn’t a bathhouse on Fire Island,” Anthony says, far too loudly, an enormous, gleeful smile overtaking his features. It will be months before he lets them forget this, Chris can already tell.  
   
“How do you know about bathhouses on Fire Island?” Sebastian asks accusingly.  
   
The older man just blinks at them in confusion, seemingly completely unaware of what they’re referring to.  _Thank God_ , Chris thinks.  
   
“I hear things, Seabass.” Anthony just keeps smiling. “Should we leave you alone, gentlemen?”  
   
“Fuck off,” Sebastian mutters, but with no real heat to it. He grabs Chris’s water bottle from the bench, and his own from the floor, and nods toward the exit. Chris follow him wordlessly, still blushing furiously but not quite resisting returning the smirk Anthony sends his way. Embarrassment doesn’t completely obscure the thrill of the secret they’re sharing with their friend, especially since the man with him still doesn’t have any clue what’s going on.  
   
“Am I still invited over for burgers tonight?” Anthony calls after them.  
   
“I’ll think about it!” Sebastian yells back over his shoulder.  
   
In the car, Sebastian leans back against his headrest and covers his face with his hands, and dissolves into giggles. Chris laughs too, the mood infectious.  
   
“That poor guy,” Sebastian says, peeking out at Chris from under his fingers. “He had no fucking idea.”  
   
“Thank fucking Christ he didn’t,” Chris moans. “The worst Mackie’s gonna do is tease us daily for the rest of our lives. That guy could’ve gotten us fired. Or arrested. We can’t do that again.”  
   
“You started it,” Sebastian points out. He’s grinning wildly, and Chris can’t help but return it.  
   
“Yeah, I know, and I shouldn’t have.” He puts his truck into gear and pulls out of the faculty lot, heading toward Sebastian’s apartment.  
   
“I don’t know,” Sebastian hums. He leans over in his seat a little, reaching for Chris’s thigh and curling his fingers around it, pressing them into the inside of it. His hand inches up, slowly crawling higher until he’s  _just_ shy of where Chris really wants that touch. “Maybe it was kinda hot.”  
   
Chris bites the inside of his cheek, and drives faster.  
   
He kisses Sebastian against the door of his apartment the second they’re inside, Sebastian making a soft noise indicating pain as his lower back is pushed against the doorknob. He lets Chris attack his mouth, and then shoves him backwards, crowding back into Chris’s space with a fierce, predatory look in his eyes and hustling Chris down the hallway towards the bedroom. Chris nearly steps on Riot as they stumble, and the cat squawks indignantly and darts off in the other direction. Sebastian pulls Chris to the bed and then fall onto it in a cascade of flailing limbs, the wind knocked out of Chris just a little as Sebastian lands on his chest but doesn’t let up kissing for long enough for Chris to properly catch his breath.  
   
He rolls them, tossing Sebastian onto his back and crawling on top of him, covering him from shoulders to knees, dipping his tongue back into Sebastian’s mouth to slide against his, warm and wet, and rocking into him so Sebastian can feel the arousal that never quite dissipated. Sebastian pushes back against him, his fingers sliding down the back of Chris’s basketball shorts to cup his ass and urge him on. His scent is intoxicating, stronger than usual with sweat dried on his skin, and it sends a dizzying rush to Chris’s head and a throbbing ache of desire to his cock.  
   
“Fuck me,” Sebastian is begging against his lips, repeating it over and over again like he’s in a trance, like it’s a magic spell. “C’mon, hurry up.”  
   
“Pushy,” Chris grumbles, but his stomach clenches and his skin prickles in anticipation, at the idea of being buried in all that silky heat, and he’s up off the bed and returning quickly with lube, tearing at his clothes as he does.  
   
Sebastian shoves his shorts off and sits up only long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head and then he’s dragging Chris back down for another bruising kiss.  
   
Chris shoves one of Sebastian’s legs up to give himself better access and slides two slicked-up fingers into him without preamble, kissing the hiss off Sebastian’s lips. Chris knows it stings but knows Sebastian can take it,  _likes_ it rough when it’s been agreed upon first, and he can sense the wild mood Sebastian is in right now. He’s not going to want Chris to hold back, and Chris is entirely on board for that.  
   
He curls his fingers, finding the little nub inside and rubbing against it mercilessly, and Sebastian’s whole body jerks underneath him, and he breathes out a broken, “fuck,  _Chris_. More, keep going, right there.”  
   
“Got you, babe,” Chris promises darkly. He attaches his lips to Sebastian’s neck and sucks a mark into him while he spreads his fingers apart, stretching Sebastian out before adding a third and fucking them into him.  
   
Sebastian whimpers beautifully and rocks back against him, wordlessly begging for more with his eyes squeezed shut and his fingernails digging into Chris’s bicep. “S’enough,” he slurs, and usually Chris would argue, but this time he doesn’t. If Sebastian wants to feel it, wants to be sore later so he can remember it every time he moves, Chris can give him that.  
   
Feeling feral and out of control, Chris pulls his fingers back out, uses his already messy hand to smear lube over his aching erection. He goes up to his knees, grabbing Sebastian’s legs and lifting them up, bending him nearly in half as he slides his cock inside, quick and steady on one long thrust until he’s fully seated. It’s a little tighter than usual but Sebastian’s body still pulls him in like it always does, sucked into the warm channel with his inner walls clenching around Chris, leaving stars behind his eyes.  
   
Sebastian reaches for him, pulling Chris down into a kiss. Chris balances on his elbows, Sebastian’s long legs wrapped around his waist. “Show me what you got, big guy,” Sebastian nearly purrs, and fire rages in Chris’s chest.  
   
“Oh, you want it like that?”  
   
“I want it like that,” Sebastian confirms.  
   
“I don’t know,” Chris teases, pretending to think it over as he moves his hips in small, shallow circles, just to grind the head of his cock against Sebastian’s prostate. “Sure you can handle it?”  
   
“Why are you talking when you could be fucking me?” Sebastian returns, a clear challenge.  
   
Chris grins at him, and takes it.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Anthony is all kinds of smug when he and Hayley arrive at Chris’s house hours later. The shit-eating grin is all over his face the second Chris opens the door to them, and Chris has to press his lips together to keep from being too obvious about his own satisfaction at how the morning had turned out. Anthony doesn’t need to know that he’d fucked Sebastian into two orgasms and then lied with him and kissed him until their lips went numb. He definitely doesn’t need to know that Sebastian had teased him hard again and sucked him off in the shower afterwards. He saw more than enough at the gym, and based on that alone has enough material with which to give them shit for the foreseeable future.  
   
And he clearly told Hayley, because she smirks at Chris as well, while he feels a blush warming his cheeks and spreading down his chest. She doesn’t say anything, just pats his cheek condescendingly, and goes into the kitchen to greet Sebastian.  
   
“How, um.” Anthony clears his throat and bounces on the balls of his feel. “How was your day?”  
   
Chris raises an eyebrow at him, and then laughs when Anthony does. “You actually wanna know?”  
   
Anthony claps him on the back and snickers. “On second thought, no, no I don’t.”  
   
“We had a good day,” Chris says, heading for the kitchen as well with Anthony following behind him. “I’ll spare you the details.”  
   
Both sets of eyes look up as they enter the room, one blue and one brown. Sebastian looks mildly annoyed and Hayley is barely containing her glee, nearly vibrating like she wants to start yelling.  
   
Sebastian rolls his eyes when he sees Anthony, and spreads his arms out, exasperated. “Yes, okay, we got a little carried away at the gym this morning and then went back to my place and had several rounds of very athletic sex. Happy? You vultures?”  
   
The chorus of laughter he’s met with says they very clearly are happy about it.  
   
Chris grins himself, and crosses the room to pull Sebastian into his arms. “We have very, very nosy friends.”  
   
“We do,” Sebastian agrees, kissing Chris on the lips. “Besides, they’re forgetting all the stories I could tell about  _them_.”  
   
“Like what?” Hayley scoffs.  
   
“Myrtle Beach,” Sebastian says, without breaking eye-contact with Chris, and Hayley makes a noise like a disgruntled pigeon and abruptly changes the subject to the pasta salad she’d brought.  
   
Chris smiles down at Sebastian, soaking up the bright smile he gets in return and kissing him again.  
   
They eat at the patio table in Chris’s backyard, late-evening sun shining down on them and laughter ringing out into the still air.  
   
Hayley raises her wine glass once their plates are empty and Chris has offered everyone seconds, dramatically holding it up in the center of the table. “To your first year,” she says to Chris.  
   
“That’s right!” Anthony holds out a glass beer bottle, joining the toast. “Congrats, man, you survived.”  
   
“Thank you.” Chris gently bumps his bottle against both, and then Sebastian’s.  
   
“And to our little family,” Hayley adds. “Last year at this time we didn’t know we were missing you, or that you’d show up and complete us. But you did, and now you’re never allowed to leave.”  
   
“Seconded,” Anthony says.  
   
Sebastian smiles. “Thirded, obviously.”  
   
Chris clinks his bottle against their drinks again, and blinks the sudden sting of tears from his eyes.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian’s mom emails him a bunch of old pictures, that she’d found in a box while cleaning out a closet in their penthouse and scanned onto her computer. Or, rather, Sebastian tells Chris wryly, she had one of the maids help her scan onto her computer, since she’s hopeless with technology. Sebastian sits at the desk in Chris’s second bedroom with his laptop open on it and clicks through them, while Chris stands behind, leaned over and enjoying them immensely. Sebastian as a small child in their apartment in Constanţa, with golden-brown hair in a bowl cut and the same toothy smile he still has today. One of him in the lap of an older woman Sebastian says is his grandmother. He says it wistfully, a little sadly, and Chris squeezes his shoulders. Sebastian seated next to his mother on the bench seat of an upright piano, his small hands over the keys and her pointing to the sheet music in front of them.  
   
There’s only a few from that time, the rest are from New York in the 90s. Sebastian at maybe 13, at another piano, this one the white grand that Chris recognizes from his parents’ home on 5 th Avenue. Sebastian in a private school uniform among a group of teenagers in matching outfits. Sebastian in his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on a double bed with an orange cat curled up in his lap.  
   
“I named her Leia,” he says, about the cat. “From Star Wars. I found her in a back alley in Manhattan, begged my parents to let me keep her. They definitely didn’t want to.”  
   
“But they let you?”  
   
He nods.  
   
Chris leans over a little more, resting his elbows on the armrests of the chair to get a better look. Sebastian looks so happy, in that one, with his rescued furry friend in his lap. “God, you were cute.”  
   
“I had crooked front teeth and an accent, and my English was bad, and I didn’t know shit about American culture. Nobody really liked me.” He says it in a flippant tone, like he’s playing it off as a joke, but Chris knows it isn’t. He knows it wounded Sebastian at the time, and those wounds have never fully sealed over.  
   
He wraps his arms around Sebastian from behind, nuzzling into his neck. “I’d have been your friend.”  
   
“I believe you.”  
   
“Probably also would’ve questioned my sexuality way sooner if you’d gone to my high school.”  
   
Sebastian laughs softly. “Yeah?”  
   
“Hell yeah. Look at you, you were fuckin’ adorable.” Chris squeezes him, and looks back up as Sebastian clicks again and another image on the screen. Sebastian is back in his navy blue private school uniform, posing awkwardly by the brick gates in front of his school. His hair is fluffy and curly on the top of his head, his cheeks still chubby with leftover baby fat even though he looks about 15 or 16 years old. Chris isn’t lying, when he says it. His own 16 year old self would have been utterly smitten by that shy smile and sparkly eyes and the sweetness of his insecurities. “I would’ve wanted to scoop you up and take you home to my Mom.”  
   
Sebastian tips his head to the side to rest against Chris’s cheek.  
   
“Would’ve tried to talk you into skipping class, too. After my parents left for work. Take you upstairs and eat you alive.”  
   
“Mm,” Sebastian hums. “Sexy times in those Batman sheets.”  
   
Chris chuckles. “Hey, I had literally hundreds of orgasms in those Batman sheets. They have  _seen_ things.”  
   
“What a stud,” Sebastian teases.  
   
“You know it.” Chris smiles against his hair, and presses a kiss to it. “I was a slut for my own right hand. Sometimes even my left hand, if I was feeling particularly kinky.”  
   
Another soft laugh. “Understandable, I guess. You have nice hands.”  
   
“Kills me that you didn’t like so many things about yourself.”  
   
Sebastian shrugs. “You know how it is when you’re a teenager. You just wanna fit in, and I didn’t.”  
   
“You fit with me.”  
   
Sebastian leans against him, clicking through another five pictures and then the slideshow ends, and the screen goes back to the email.  
   
“Move in with me?” Chris asks. He’s been thinking about it for weeks, figuring he’d take Sebastian out somewhere nice and ask him in a way that feels designed and not an off-the-cuff suggestion, but suddenly the moment feels right. With Sebastian in his arms, sharing his past, letting Chris into parts of his life he doesn’t always remember fondly.  
   
He’s expecting to have to explain himself, to clarify that it isn’t a snap decision, but Sebastian exhales slowly, and turns his head so Chris can see his eyes, and nods with a smile on his face.  
   
“Really?” Chris asks, face breaking into a smile.  
   
“Stupid that we haven’t already, isn’t it?” Sebastian reasons. “I’ve slept alone maybe three times in the last few months. We basically already live together, just in two places. It’d be easier if it was just one.”  
   
“Easier, huh?” Chris teases. He spins Sebastian’s chair around, straddling him and sitting carefully on his lap, not putting his full weight down so the chair doesn’t buckle under them. “Half the property tax, somebody to split the grocery bills with, less running back and forth to feed our animals.”  
   
“Practicality is very sexy,” Sebastian says. He tilts his chin up, asking for a kiss, and Chris gives it to him. “Also I love you, and never want to be without you, and all that nonsense.”  
   
“And all that nonsense,” Chris agrees, grinning happily into another kiss, and at the feel of Sebastian’s hands cupping his hips.  
   
“It really is mostly about the property tax.”  
   
Chris laughs softly, bumping his nose against Sebastian’s.  
   
“And the love,” Sebastian concedes.  
   
“Yeah. And that.” Chris brushes his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, and adores the emotion shining in his clear blue eyes. He rubs his thumb over Sebastian’s cheekbone and kisses him again. “Doesn’t have to be here, by the way. I’m not attached to this place, and I know you love yours.”  
   
“You need a backyard, for Dodger,” Sebastian points out. “It’s okay. I do like my place, but I like you more. I want to live with you more than I want a fireplace.”  
   
“There are houses with fireplaces. Why don’t you move in here for now, and we’ll find a realtor and start looking? Get a place that’s both of ours. One with a big stone fireplace, and hardwood floors, and room for a grand piano.”  
   
“A giant backyard, lots of room for Dodger to run around. And a finished basement,” Sebastian adds. “So you can have an 80-inch T.V. and surround-sound speakers and a built-in bar. You can have a Superbowl party every year.”  
   
Chris kisses him a little harder, and Sebastian’s arms tighten around his middle, keeping him close.  
   
*           *           *  
   
Three days later, Sebastian loads Riot up into a pet carrier and brings him over to Chris’s house to introduce him to Dodger. Chris isn’t sure what to expect. Riot isn’t used to travelling, and Dodger isn’t used to cats. Chris doesn’t think he’s ever seen one. Usually Dodger is happy to meet other dogs, at the off-leash park, but this is different. It’s a slightly rocky start. Riot hisses and refuses to come out of the carrier, and Dodger sticks his nose into the opening and gets a snout full of claws and then runs off, whimpering, to hide under the kitchen table.  
   
“Bud,” Chris laughs, going after him, sitting down on the floor with him and scratching Dodger’s ears.  
   
They decide not to force it, to just go about their evening and let the animals venture back towards each other at their own pace. It might take a few tries to get them accustomed to each other, and they’re in no rush. It’s another two months before Sebastian’s yearly lease is up for renewal, so it isn’t an urgent matter.  
   
He makes dinner while Sebastian sits at the island and chats with him about his latest therapy session and a book on trauma his doctor had lent him. They eat on the couch with a movie on. Halfway through it, Dodger slinks out from the kitchen and sits for a few minutes with his head on Chris’s knee, before jumping up on a sofa chair and curling up in it.  
   
Chris clears their dishes as the credits roll, rinsing alfredo sauce off the plates before loading them into the dishwasher.  
   
“Chris,” Sebastian’s voice says quietly, from the other room. “C’mere.”  
   
He goes, to find Sebastian motionless on the couch, watching as his cat slowly makes his way around the room. Sniffing objects as he passes them, looking around, taking in his new surroundings. Chris stays still in the doorway, not wanting sudden movements or noises to break the spell. As they watch, Riot makes his way cautiously over to Dodger, still snoozing on the chair. Dodger’s eyes open, but he doesn’t move, and after another few sniffs, Riot jumps up onto the arm of the chair and carefully climbs onto Dodgers back. Another tentative sniff, and then he’s purring and kneading Dodger’s fur, making him a comfortable bed and curling up on top of him.  
   
Sebastian turns to Chris, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, and Chris resists jumping up and down like a little kid because it would ruin it, but he wants to. Sebastian gets up and moves as quietly as he can, pulling Chris into a soft kiss.  
   
“Looks like I got two families this year,” he says, happiness shining in his eyes.  
   
“Me too,” Chris breathes, clenching in his chest, and kisses him again.  
   
*           *           *


	30. Chapter 30

_Four months later_  
   
“They accepted our offer.”  
   
Sebastian looks up, as Chris skids into the room, sliding on the wood floor in his socks. He’s holding his phone out, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, a pretty flush on his cheeks. Sebastian’s eyes widen, too. “Really?”  
   
Chris nods, tossing his phone over and bouncing up and down excitedly. “Glen just texted. They accepted it, Seb.”  
   
Sebastian fumbles as he barely catches the phone, looking at its screen to see for himself. A series of texts from their real estate agent, with plenty of exclamation marks. He looks back up at Chris. “Did we just buy a house?”  
   
Chris smiles so wide it threatens to split his face in half. “We just bought a house.”  
   
Sebastian sets the phone down and gets up, barely makes it two steps before Chris is closing the distance between them and pulling Sebastian into a tight hug. He laughs, sounding delirious, in Sebastian’s ear, and then kisses him, quick and a little rough, passion overflowing. Sebastian cups his face, thumbs moving through his beard, shorter right now than it had been yesterday because Chris just trimmed it. The bristles tickle the pads of his fingers. Chris’s lips soften against his, but he stays close, sharing air and body heat, soaking up the poignance of the moment.  
   
“You’re sure you won’t miss this place?” Sebastian asks.  
   
Chris laughs again. “Are you nuts? I haven’t even lived here a full year. There’s still boxes in the basement I never got around to unpacking. The only reason this house ever felt like home is because you were here with me for most of that time. Anywhere we go is home as long as you’re there.”  
   
Sebastian swallows over the surge of unexpected emotions that rises in his throat. “Chris.”  
   
“That came out a little more cheesy-Hallmark-card than I meant it to,” Chris amends. His smile could light up Times Square. “I mean it, though. Someone who’s less of a meatball could express it more seriously, but I mean it. You’re my home.”  
   
“God dammit, Evans,” Sebastian complains, disingenuously, tipping his head forward to rest against Chris’s shoulder to give himself a chance at keeping it together. If he keeps looking into all that sweet, earnest sincerity in Chris’s eyes, he’ll definitely burst into tears.  
   
“Big clumsy meatball,” Chris says again. He tightens his arms around Sebastian’s waist and kisses his hair.  
   
“My meatball, though.” Sebastian kisses his neck, just above the collar of his t-shirt. “My home, too.”  
   
“We take possession October 1 st.”  
   
“We have a house.”  
   
“Yes we do. One that’s ours. Not me absorbing you into my life or you absorbing me into yours. Our house, filled with our things and our memories and  _us._ Together.”  
   
“Maybe you should write for Hallmark,” Sebastian suggests. His voice comes out thick and wavering.  
   
Chris chuckles, and nudges Sebastian’s face up to kiss him. “Love you. So fucking excited to start a life with you.”  
   
“Me too.”  
   
“We should have a house-warming party, once we’re settled in. A big one. Invite Hayley and Anthony, and Scott and my sisters, and some people from work, and just … everyone. Everyone we can convince to show up and celebrate with us.”  
   
“Sounds perfect.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
Sebastian runs the pad of his thumb slowly down Chris’s nose, feeling over the slight bump in the bridge. Then he runs it back up, over Chris’s left eyebrow, back down to brush over his cheekbone.   
   
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.  
   
It still overtakes him, just as hard as it had the very first time he saw Chris, across the room at a banquet. Sebastian looks back now and finds it difficult to recognize himself from a year ago. Everything is so radically different. He’d believed he was getting by. Not quite happy, but something close enough to it that he could get out of bed in the morning and teach his classes and write his books and spend time with his friends. He hadn’t realized how much he was faking it, until he relearned what genuine happiness feels like.  
   
Chris blushes and smiles softly, turning his face into the pillow.  
   
“What, you don’t agree?” Sebastian teases.  
   
“I believe you mean it,” Chris answers. It’s not self-deprecating, it’s gentle and teasing like Sebastian was.  
   
“Good.” He keeps touching, light fingertips over Chris’s perfect face. Gets sappy again, because he can. “I’m so lucky I found you.”  
   
“Me too.” Chris’s fingers curl over Sebastian’s ribcage, under the covers. “And back at you, by the way. Speaking of unfairly beautiful. I won some kinda lottery, that you ever wanted me back.”  
   
“Wanted you since the first second I saw you.”  
   
“Lucky me.” Chris smiles a little more, and his eyes sparkle, and Sebastian has seen spectacular sunsets over the ocean that are less stunning than Chris when he smiles. “Are you nervous?”  
   
Sebastian swallows. He moves in a little, lifts his head for a moment so Chris can get his arms around him and cuddle him close. They’re going to Constanţa tomorrow. Renting a car in the morning and driving to New York so they can board an overnight flight to Istanbul, and then a second flight to the Romanian city on the Black Sea. It will take them almost 24 hours to get there, all travel included, and that part Sebastian really isn’t looking forward to. He doesn’t mind planes, but he’s never been on a 10-hour flight before. It sounds fairly nightmarish. And that’s just the getting there. What awaits in his first home is a much bigger, scarier unknown.  
   
“A little. Yes,” he admits. He’s been working with his therapist on being more honest. Working on what she calls  _speaking his truth_  and trusting that the people who love him will keep on loving him all the way through it. “But you’ll be there.”  
   
“I’ll be there,” Chris confirms.  
   
“A lot of bad things happened there, you know?” Sebastian asks. He tucks his head under Chris’s chin, where it’s safe. “Not to me necessarily, but things I saw. Things I heard about. I don’t know how it’s all gonna come back. I’m not … I don’t think a full-on breakdown is in the cards or anything, but. I just don’t know. How it’ll all go down.”  
   
“That’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. I’ll be right there beside you.”  
   
“I don’t think I would’ve ever done this, without you.”  
   
“Yes, you would’ve. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”  
   
“I wasn’t me, anymore. Not for a long time. Loving you helped me figure that out.”  
   
“I wasn’t me anymore either. Or I was a version of myself I didn’t like. Or something.” Chris kisses his hair. “Point is, we found each other at the right time. And I’m proud of you for going back. Even if it’s shitty, you know? I’ll be there with you, and we’ll be okay.”  
   
“There’s really nice beaches. Wouldn’t be so horrible to lie with you on a beach while I can’t stop crying.”  
   
Chris chuckles warmly, the low sound vibrating through Sebastian’s chest. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I can’t wait. Sunburnt and snot everywhere and sand in the crack of my ass. Dream vacation.”  
   
It makes Sebastian laugh, and spreads warmth down his extremities. “Good.”  
   
*           *           *  
   
The flight is as endless as Sebastian was imagining. He tries to sleep but can’t, too anxious about the trip, so Chris stays up with him. They play cards and talk about the draft of his book Chris just sent to his editor, and watch a movie while cuddled under one blanket, as much as they can in awkward airplane seats. The layover in Istanbul is a few hours, but not long enough for it to be worth leaving the airport and seeing a bit of the city, so they wander through the gift shops and have breakfast and just wait. By the time wheels touch down in Constanţa, they’re both exhausted and irritable from being exhausted, and Sebastian just wants to get to the hotel and sleep for a full day.  
   
He speaks in imperfect Romanian to a taxi driver, communicating where they need to go, and then stares out at the city through the window as they drive. He remembers more of it than he was expecting, given how young he was when they left. It feels like seeing ghosts, to take in familiar buildings and parks and street art, as if 30 years went by in the blink of an eye and he’s right back to being 7 years old in this place. Chris’s hand slides over and takes Sebastian’s, squeezing it. Sebastian squeezes back. He should have warned Chris that they can’t be quite as overt, here, in a slightly more conservative and religious country than their own. Luckily the taxi driver is singing quietly along to the radio and doesn’t pay them any notice.  
   
They do collapse into the queen bed, once they get to their hotel. Sebastian is too tired to bother showering or changing, he just takes off his jeans and crawls under the blankets, and Chris crawls in with him and holds him close and Sebastian drifts off to sleep in only minutes. It’s dark out, when he wakes up, finding Chris already awake and sitting up against the headboard looking at his phone, Sebastian’s head pillowed in his lap.  
   
He stretches and smiles up at Chris. “How long have you been awake?”  
   
“Not that long. Maybe a half hour. You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to bother you.” Chris’s fingers slide into Sebastian’s hair, petting, and Sebastian leans into the touch.  
   
“What time is it?”  
   
“3:30,” Chris answers.  
   
“In the morning?” Sebastian groans, and then laughs. “Shit, we slept for like 11 hours.”  
   
“We needed it.” Chris keeps stroking his hair. His stomach growls next to Sebastian’s cheek, and he grins sheepishly. “I apparently am hungry.”  
   
“I have no idea where we’re going to get food at 3:30 in the morning. Might have to just be hungry for a few hours before breakfast places open up.”  
   
Chris shrugs. “I’ll live.”  
   
He puts his phone onto the nightstand and slides down, the two of them rearranging themselves so Chris can lie with his head on Sebastian’s chest. Sebastian trails absent-minded fingers up and down his spine, through his soft shirt.  
   
Another loud growl of his stomach, and Chris noses up under Sebastian’s stubbled jaw and jokes, “maybe I should eat you.”  
   
Sebastian snickers. “I don’t think sucking me off and swallowing is the same as actual food.”  
   
“Better than nothing,” Chris kisses his chin, but then doesn’t make any effort to move. Sebastian closes his eyes and relaxes with Chris in his arms.  
   
*           *           *  
   
“It’s the same,” Sebastian says, staring from the curb at the six-storey apartment building where he’d live for most of his childhood. He can’t believe it looks the same. It’s been nearly three decades, Sebastian was sure the old building would have been torn down, or at least painted or renovated. But it’s exactly the same. He can see the window, on the fifth floor, that was his bedroom. Can remember looking out that window and watching people pass by on the street below. Remembers watching nervously in the later years, before they ran, as tensions heated and the streets became empty expect for soldiers.  
   
It’s early in the morning, so the street is relatively deserted. Chris moves in behind him, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s waist and hooking his chin over Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian leans against him a little, letting Chris take some of his weight; letting Chris support him.  
   
He points, to a spot across the street. “I saw a man get shot, there,” he says quietly. “By a soldier.”  
   
Chris makes a small, hurt noise and turns his nose into Sebastian’s hair. “Fuck.”  
   
“I was home alone, after school. I never told my Mom. Never told anyone. I thought if I did, they’d come after me, too.”  
   
“Sebastian,” Chris whispers. “That’s so fucking horrible. You must’ve been so scared.”  
   
His hands shake as he remembers it, remembers the way the man’s body had fallen like a puppet with cut strings, just dropped to the ground and lied there motionless as the soldiers laughed and jostled each other like it was a game. Sebastian remembers dropping down as well, hiding under his bed until his Mom got home and wanting to tell her what he’d seen, but terrified of what might happen if he did. He turns in Chris’s arms, burying himself in a strong, solid embrace, where he’s always felt safe, since the first time Chris hugged him.  
   
“Can we go?” he asks, voice breaking.  
   
Chris nods. “Of course we can.”  
   
He might come back. They’re here for a week, before they’ll carry on to Greece for the more enjoyable part of their vacation. Sebastian might be able to convince himself to come back in a few days, to sit here on the side of the road and process the memories he’d locked up for so long. Just not today.  
   
*           *           *  
   
They do go to the beach. It’s one Sebastian remembers playing at when he was little, with friends from school. His Mom sitting on the sand with the other parents while he ran along the shoreline and splashed his friend Emil and traded shovels and plastic buckets to dig in the sand while the salt water licked at their feet. They find a spot near the end of the open stretch, where no one is around to see them. Chris sits against a brick barricade wall, bare-chested and smiling, and Sebastian settles between his legs, leaning back against him like he had earlier on his old street but more completely this time. Chris hugs around his middle, fingers gently petting his stomach and lips brushing along the side of Sebastian’s face.  
   
“I’m proud of you,” he says softly. “I know this is difficult. But you’re here.”  
   
“You’re coming with me, tomorrow, right? To the meeting?” Sebastian has been communicating with a charity organization that works with children, figuring it better to offer his help to an existing operation rather than attempting to start his own in a country where he doesn’t live and has no contacts. He’s meeting with their director in the morning.  
   
“Wouldn’t miss it. You’re gonna do so much good, here. Help out so many kids who’re like you were. I’m …” Chris sounds emotional, and rubs his nose against Sebastian’s cheek. He repeats, “really fucking proud of you. And love you so much.”  
   
Sebastian tilts his head back, finding Chris’s mouth and sliding his own against it. When their lips part, he leaves his head resting on Chris’s shoulder and looks out over the water. Sparkling blue in the sunshine, extending so far into the distance that it disappears beyond the horizon. Endless.  
   
“It’s beautiful, here,” Chris says softly.  
   
Sebastian nods. It is, and he can see that, beyond the memories that darken it. If he closes his eyes and relaxes in Chris’s loving embrace, he can almost hear distant echoes of his own laughter, bright and sparkling like the water, as the shadow of his child self runs along the beach. Splashing, playing, carefree and happy.   
   
That little boy didn’t know the things that would happen, not too far into the future, things that would ruin his innocence and leave him with scars that might last a lifetime. But he didn’t know other things, either. He didn’t know he’d make friends who would stick by him through anything. He didn’t know in the future he’d work hard, and push through setbacks, and land his dream-job at one of the best schools in the world. He didn’t know his future self would be back here, decades later, lying on this same beach in the arms of someone who loves him.  
   
For a quiet moment, in the sunshine, Sebastian feels more connected to that little boy than he’s ever been. For the moment, they’re both carefree and happy.  
   
*           *           *

**Author's Note:**

> [come talk to me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who has been reading, leaving kudos, and such lovely comments. I have loved writing this story and these characters so much, and having a group of readers to chat about it with has made it so much fun. Thank you for sticking around for the longest story I've ever written, and one I'm incredibly proud of. You're all the absolute best.  
>   
> This story would not exist without my incredible friend Sam. He is it's biggest cheerleader, my constant sounding-board, and deserves credit for coming up with multiple scenes. This has been very much a collaborative effort, and I'm so grateful for his input and lovely willingness to help me turn scattered ideas into a coherent plot.


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